Bits and Baubles
by perpetual-estrangement
Summary: A collection of a variety of Captain Swan oneshots and short multi-part fics. Since I seem to write a few of these, this will be their home.
1. Scorched by Truth

_"Scorched by Truth"_

* * *

"Captain's quarters!" David shouted as he and Neal hauled an unconscious Hook on board the Jolly.

"Henry?" Emma shouted frantically for her newly rescued son.

"Yes, mom?"

"Round up everybody's water and search the ship for more," Emma instructed, quickly brushing a kiss on her son's forehead.

"I'll go with him," Neal volunteered, passing Hook's feet to her.

The fucking pirate was an idiot and if he lived, Emma swore she'd kill him. The final battle for Henry was fierce indeed and everybody risked themselves, but Hook had to go and take on Pan. He had to go and put himself in the biggest danger fighting the ancient and immortal boy from hell, his only excuse being that they needed him down in order to have enough time to escape. That information came while he was still awake and it had been a few hours since he passed out from the blood loss. That knife wound in his side was bleeding heavily, free from dreamshade since Pan stuck him with a borrowed weapon, thank God for small miracles, but Emma noticed as she and David lifted him into the tiny bunk, that the bleeding was slowing down and a new stroke of terror hit her.

"Get his shirt off," Mary Margaret ordered, violently searching the cabin and finally producing a needle and a spool of thread.

David and Emma both attacked the pirate, stripping him of the heavy leather coat, the vest, and the blood soaked shirt. Emma bit her lip. He was beautiful, even wounded, but she turned her attention to her son who entered with the water.

"Neal's getting the ship ready to go," Henry explained with a worried glance to Hook. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I hope so," Emma said shaking her head, refusing to contemplate the idea that he might die. "Go back up and help your dad get us out of here, okay?"

"Okay."

"Emma, rum!" Snow hollered, and it was definitely Snow. Emma had never seen this side of her mother, of Mary Margaret, so collected and cool and absolutely knowing exactly what needed to be done.

Fishing the flask from Hook's discarded clothes, she poured it over the needle and thread that her mother had prepared before passing it to David who poured some down the pirate's throat and then, unceremoniously, over the wound. Hook didn't even flinch. That couldn't be good.

"Can you tell if it hit anything important?" Emma asked, still holding a firm hand over her panic.

Snow shook her head quickly as she began to sew. "No, but it's not too deep and it's far enough to the side. He might be lucky. Rum, David," she ordered again, and her husband obeyed, pouring more of the alcohol over the wound to clear away the blood so Snow could see what she was doing.

"We'll just have to hope he hasn't lost too much blood," David said evenly.

Emma swallowed hard. He couldn't die on her, not after everything he did for them, for _her_. They never would've got Henry back without Hook and now he was just lying there, far too lifeless for Emma's taste. She already knew she cared about the pirate. How could she not after all he'd done and after he revealed his feelings for her that day in the Echo Caves? Emma wasn't cold, wasn't heartless. That all meant something to her; _he_ meant something to her. She just didn't realize how much until she saw him go down as they ran from the Lost Boy camp, until she saw his hand covered in blood and his face growing paler as they hauled him through the trees. And now, watching him spread out, blood covering his side, with only shallow breaths and no mocking comment leaving his lips at his half-undressed state, Emma knew she cared far too much for Captain Hook.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

"Water," David called for and Emma passed him one of the canteens so he could pour some more liquid past Hook's lips, lips she thought about way too many times.

After a few tensely silent minutes, Snow tied an expert knot to finish off her work and immediately applied more rum to the area to disinfect and to examine her stitches.

"Well?" Emma asked, feeling useless.

Her mother met her eyes seriously, but there was an understanding and strength there that Emma clung to desperately. "Nothing's sure, but he's a big strong man, healthy, and a fighter. All we can do is wait and hope now."

Emma nodded gravely, looking back to Hook still lying motionless on his bed, no expression on his face, not even pain. Snow moved away to wash the blood from her hands and David moved closer to Emma.

"We need to figure out what plan Gold has up his sleeve for getting out of here now," he said calmly. "In the meantime, we'll just put as much distance between us and Pan that we can."

Emma nodded, eyes still locked on the pirate. "Can you take care of it? I want to stay with him."

And she did. What if he died and no one was there? If no one knew until they got to Storybrooke? The thought of him going out alone like a burnt out candle, hit her hard and Emma knew there was no way in hell she'd leave him until he opened his blue eyes again.

David nodded in response, seeming totally okay with that idea and completely unsurprised and waving to his wife, they both climbed their way out of the cabin, leaving Emma alone with Hook.

As the door clicked softly behind them, Emma swallowed again as she continued to stare at the unconscious man before her. She never thought she'd see him so helpless, and yet here they were. He was out, on the brink of death, and completely at the mercy of the people around him.

_Please don't die._

Shaking herself from that train of thought, Emma picked up the leather coat and vest from the floor, carefully draping them over one of the chairs in the room. The shirt was worthless now, and after a brief search of the cabin, she reassured herself that he had more before she ripped some rags from the ruined garment. As she worked, she quietly took in the details of the room, noting the cleanliness and orderliness of everything and wondering at the books on the shelf and what might be in the cabinets she hadn't opened yet. Emma didn't pry, however, and instead, soaked some of her new rags with water from the canteen and began to wash away the rest of the blood on his stomach, hesitating before touching his bare skin. Some of the blood was already beginning to dry and she tried to scrub as gently as possible without pulling too much at his stitches. She had to kick herself back into focus every time her mind wandered and her eyes flitted appreciatively over his furred chest, broad and littered with scars, and his stomach, flat and solid underneath her fingers.

Emma finished with his torso and moved on to his hand, gently easing the heavy rings from him before soaking another rag with water and proceeding to wash the blood from his palm and fingers. It was somehow a far more intimate task that his body and Emma squelched back the fear of what her emotions were doing. After all he'd done, it was the least she could do for him. Besides, no one else would do it for him, and the thought of anyone else doing it for him made her sick to her stomach. No, this was right. For some reason she wasn't ready to contemplate yet, she knew she'd never done anything so right or so important in her life. Finished, she let her fingers trace his before cleaning his rings and placing them back where they belonged.

There was nothing else to do. It was a waiting game now, so Emma pulled up a chair, sat, and waited, taking in the lines of his profile, the way his jaw was still clenched in defiance even when passed out, the way her heart beat a little harder when she looked as his lips, and tried to figure out what the hell was going on inside her.

The day went on like that and night came, no change. David came down long enough to tell her that Gold had a plan that involved a way to get him off the island safely and that they were sailing to get as far away from the island as possible for some reason. Henry came down and Emma hugged him and filled him in on the pirate's condition, but Henry was a kid and couldn't sit still for long. He soon returned to the deck. Neal came down after night settled in, but one look at her with her eyes locked on Hook, and he turned around and left without a word.

A mumble snapped Emma into attention. It was sometime in the early, early morning hours and she was flipping through a book trying to stay awake. The book was pushed quickly aside and Emma sat up straighter, unsure if she was hearing things or not. She wasn't. A whimper hit her ears and stabbed her in the heart for the hurt man. She peered at him closely, trying to make out whether or not he was awake with only the light from a small lamp in the room.

"Liam."

Emma was on her feet at the word, the name, a name she didn't know but Hook was talking and she grabbed the lamp and moved closer to see his face better. With the orange light she could see that sweat was coating his entire body and Emma placed her hand on his forehead only to jerk back at the heat. He was burning up. Fever. And given the unconscious mumbling, it was a dangerous one.

"Shit," Emma breathed.

Hurriedly, she set the lamp down and went for the canteens and the remaining good rags, soaking them and immediately working on Hook, focusing on hitting the important areas in an attempt to cool him down, his forehead and temples, his neck, behind his ears, his wrist and inside of his elbows. Emma wasted no time in unclicking his hook. If he was going to hallucinate, she'd prefer him without the weapon.

"Liam, no," Hook mumbled, the sound so sad it went straight to Emma's chest. "Don't leave me, Liam."

Emma stopped what she was doing and looked at the man. His brow was creased with whatever memory was choosing to reassert itself and he was beginning to toss his head ever so slightly against his pillow. Who was Liam? Whoever he was, he left, and Emma knew that all too well.

"Milah," he whispered softly.

Emma knew that one. Shaking herself, she went back to trying to cool him down. He was quiet and still after Milah and Emma smiled a small smile. It was obvious how much he loved that woman and it was strange to think about Captain Hook being in love.

_No stranger than him moving past her memory because of you._

She inhaled sharply as the remembrance of his secret echoed in her brain. It was true. The cave wouldn't let him lie and he had to hand over his feelings for the sake of Neal, but Emma wouldn't let her examine his words too closely. It was too scary to try and face the unspoken undertone of that confession, the natural conclusion of just what that kiss exposed for him beyond the fact that he had moved on from his love. His first love.

Exhaling shakily, Emma moved away to soak some more rags and try unsuccessfully to think of something else.

"Emma," Hook whispered and she froze and looked over her shoulder at him. "Emma!"

He kept saying her name, the volume rising with every repetition until he was yelling for her, crying out, his face contorted with pain and his head thrashing on the pillow.

"Emma!"

Emma quickly returned to his side and ran the cool cloth over his forehead. "Shh, hey, I'm right here."

"Emma!"

"I'm here," she repeated. "Shh. It's okay."

He couldn't hear her, of course, so her attempts to quiet him were for nothing as he continued to cry out for her and she continued to shush and wash his pulse points. A broken sob burst from his lips and he whimpered again as he tried to hide in his pillow.

"Dammit Jones," he growled, still steeped in his fever rambling. "Just had to, didn't you?"

"Shh, Hook. Come on, now," she cajoled gently.

"You stupid bastard," he continued, his words only slightly mumbled but nonetheless, angry. "You're just a pirate. What the hell were you thinking? Stupid, stupid bastard."

"Hey, you're not stupid," Emma said softly, feeling like she might as well have a conversation with a fever sick Captain Hook just for the hell of it, but his next words ruined it and shattered her.

"Just had to love her, Jones."

Surely, he didn't mean-

"Emma, Emma, Emma," he rambled loudly. "I love you, dammit!"

She felt her jaw drop and her body freeze. That was what was hidden and carefully unsaid that day in the Echo Caves, the thing she'd been terrified to think about, to consider, but there it was. Hook, _Killian Jones_, loved her. He loved her, and though Emma knew she should have been running away by now, the warmth that crept through her heart at the words being voiced was too damn nice. His face, however, twisted and unresting, let her know just how much loving her _hurt him, _and that little fact made her rebellious and fluttering heart ache. And he wasn't done.

"Aye, I love her," he growled, clearly unhappy about it. "Dammit, Jones. You fool! Emma lass, I'm sorry."

Her eyes were suddenly filled with tears and she blinked hard to clear her vision. She couldn't take this. She had front row seats to the depths of his heart, a heart that was in pain, full of self-loathing, full of love, _because of her_. The sadness and hurt sat on his face like it would never go away and he still thrashed about on his pillow, mumbling her name and declaring his love, and she had no idea how to soothe him. She needed to know how to soothe him! Wanted that knowledge more than anything in the world!

"Killian," she whispered, placing her hands on the side of his face, but she didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.

"Lass," he pleaded through closed eyes, his voice lowering to a whisper, broken and full of longing. "Let me love you, sweetheart. Let me in. Come here and rest, darling."

"Killian," she repeated, shocked when her voice cracked and a tear slipped down her cheek. His words hit her like running into the broadside of a building, knocking her on her ass and making her reevaluate everything. This man loved her. He handed her his heart that day in the cave but she never realized just how deep he was in. And to think! He had to sit there and watch Neal return to her, 'fight for her', while she pushed both away, focusing on Henry. And now that she had him, now that they were on their way home, she didn't have an excuse unless she made one up, deflected and hid from what was right before her.

Two choices, two men, before her. Both loved her, both wanted her, but what did she want? Emma, no matter how much she loved him, couldn't consider Neal without bitterness and pain, without wondering about all the secrets there, the history, the explanations, a love overshadowed by heartbreak and lost hope, the summary of her past. But Killian, he scared her. He scared her with his totally out of nowhere love, his steadiness and solid presence, the way she felt like he'd love her even if she told him to take a hike, but fear aside, did she love him? He was a good man. He was handsome, brave, he made her smile when it was the last thing she felt like doing. What else? Emma breathed deep as she let her heart open up and feel, to get a good look at the thing, and amidst all the suffering and scars, the loneliness and hardness, she found him.

It shouldn't have been so shocking but Emma trembled with the realization. Seemed like all his silent, seemingly unnoticed, actions found their way inside of her. The supportive voice backing her constantly, the immediate offer of assistance and follow through to get Henry, his selfless sacrificing of himself, of the secrets of his heart, for _her_.

Emma's crying intensified as the truth made itself known. Killian Jones loved her and somewhere along the lines, completely unbeknownst to her, her heart had made a place for him. And here he was, unconscious, teetering on the edge of not coming back to her, and she could do nothing but keep stroking his face and neck with cool water and beg him to open his pretty eyes.

She still dodged the words, but where Neal was her past, she couldn't help but think and hope that the man in front of her was her future.

"Killian," she said, trying to call him back. "Killian, wake up, please."

"Emma," he mumbled, his words becoming faint. "I'm sorry, lass."

"You don't have to be sorry, you stupid man," she laughed once through her tears.

"Let me, Emma," he whimpered through the fire in his brain. "Let me love you, Emma."

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the scar on his cheek, her breathing unsteady. "Okay."


	2. Scorched by Truth Part 2

_Scorched by Truth Part 2_

_Smut, smut, glorious smut. Ye be warned._

* * *

Killian slowly returned to the land of the living but he felt like he'd waltzed through hell. Through his closed eyes he knew it was daytime, but what day, he had no idea. He'd know the feel of his own bed anywhere, so that took care of his location. There was a dull ache in his side that was slowly becoming more and more painful as his brain shook off the dregs of unconsciousness.

_What the bloody hell happened?_

The last thing he remembered was going down in the jungle as they ran for his ship and in the last moments before blessed darkness, hands lifting him up to carry him. Were they still in Neverland? Was Henry secure? Who the bloody hell was steering the Jolly? What was David's status?

Why was someone sleeping beside him?

Killian forced himself to open his eyes, they felt like sand and his throat was on fire. Along with that, his shirt was gone and his coat was draped over him, but that was not the major source of warmth. No, that little bit of heaven came courtesy of a certain blonde. A certain blonde who'd completely turned him inside out. She was nestled against his chest, fast asleep under the cover of his coat, her cheek resting on his bare chest, a strong arm over him, and her leg between his. As the full weight of her nearness hit him, and hit him hard, Killian breathed sharply, the cool air of his cabin burning his parched throat even more. He hadn't thought to check the reaction and the movement of his chest successfully woke her.

Emma shot up, those beautiful green eyes he loved living beside dark shadows and slightly puffy. She gasped slightly when she saw him awake. "Killian?"

The shot of pleasure that hit him was greater than anything he could have imagined, hearing his name on her lips, caressed by her mouth. He'd figure out why she suddenly felt the urge to use it and why the bloody hell she was sleeping beside him soon, but first he had to get himself together.

"Water?" he asked, his voice sounding as scratchy as his throat felt.

Emma nodded quickly and gingerly eased herself from his side, leaning over him to the windowsill in such a way, that his breath caught in his chest. The moment passed all too quickly as she drew back, popping open a canteen, and helping him drink. The water was the perfect balm for the fire in his throat and he drank eagerly, gulping down the lukewarm stuff.

"You're going to drown yourself," Emma said softly, pulling the canteen back.

He lowered his head back to the pillow with a tired sigh. "What happened?"

"Mary Margaret stitched you up. We made it back to Storybrooke. David came by earlier to let me know we've got a bit of a problem but I'll deal with that later."

"David?" he croaked. "What the hell is he doing in Storybrooke?"

"Whatever Gold did to get us back, it had a loophole for him," Emma explained with a shrug. "I really haven't payed much attention. You've been out for two nights. Had a pretty bad fever that first one."

"And you're here because?" Killian ventured softly, afraid to hope for a favorable response.

The evidence of her care was right before him. If she knew that he'd be feverish and woke up beside him, it only could mean that she'd stayed with him, but it was too unbelievable.

Emma paused, still lying beside him, but propped up on her elbow so she could look down on him. With her long blonde hair sparkling in the sunlight and her lower lip pulled into her mouth as she debated on how to answer him, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Why do you think?" she finally asked.

"Emma," he said firmly, getting desperate the more he considered the possibility of her taking care of him, watching over him. He had to know if it was true. He had to know if she cared. If there was something, he needed it. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

He saw it on her face, the fear, the absolute terror of giving him any part of her, anything he could use against her and hurt her with. What she didn't know, however, is just how impossible that was. He couldn't hurt her any more than he could stop loving her.

"I... Killian, I..." she fumbled, a frustrated crook in her eyebrow. "Oh, dammit."

And with that her lips were crashing into his, pressing him with tenderness but still a fury only she could bring. Killian let her lead, letting her tell him everything with her kiss. Her soft lips moved and blended with his, her mouth opening and coaxing his to follow, and then her tongue slipped inside to tangle with his, and amongst all the passion and heat she brought in that little body of hers, there was an undertone of feeling so unexpected, it damn near knocked him out again. He groaned into her mouth, unable to stop himself, and began to take over. He had his own things to tell her and after a few more minutes, they broke apart, both gasping for air. Emma wasn't done, however, and pressed feather kisses all over his face and jaw as she panted for her breath, the sound doing things to his body that just shouldn't be possible in his exhausted and injured state. He breathed her name as her mouth hit just below his ear and he tugged her closer.

"Emma," he gasped. "If you keep going, I won't be able to stop."

"Yes you will. You're hurt," she said, resting her forehead on his bare shoulder.

"I'm not _that_ hurt," he said, managing a laugh and feeling the twinge in his side.

"No?"

Of all the things he expected from her, he never expected that. It was supposed to be her warning before she sailed them to the point of no return, an escape for her before she did something she'd regret later, but no. Emma was looking at him now like the prospect of continuing was more than welcome. They stared each other down for a moment, both trying to figure out what the other wanted without words, stubborn asses that they were.

"I don't want to stop," Emma finally whispered as she tossed the leather coat covering them onto the floor. The simple words rang in his head like a loud bell.

"Emma, are you sure?" he asked her, still trying to save them both from any negative consequences that might arise. He'd sooner take the sword than live the knowledge that she regretted lying with him, because, bloody hell, he wanted her and he'd want her again.

"Yeah," she breathed unsteadily. "But I don't want to bust your stitches or hurt you."

"I'll take my chances," he vowed before he jerked her back to his lips and kissed her, making a move to roll her underneath him and feeling a shot of pain shoot from his stab wound. Oh well, he'd deal with it.

"No," Emma said, pushing him back down into his pillow. "No, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Dammit to hell, Emma love," he growled. "Do you really think I'd let that get in the way of me making love to you?"

"Chill," she said gently, pressing a finger against his lips. "Let _me_."

A tremor wracked his body at the idea of Emma Swan making love to him. He'd always been the lover in bed, the one to set the course and provide for both pleasures, and while a woman on top of him wasn't exactly new, it was rare enough to be unfamiliar and a bit disorientating. Of course, that could just be because Emma was up and straddling his hips, wiggling a bit in her seat. Vixen. Should have known.

"Emma, lass, what kind of gentleman lets a lady do all the work?" he complained. Dammit, he wanted to love her.

"Hush," she said with a brief kiss. "You gave up your ship, you helped rescue my son, you've worked enough and now you're going to lie there and enjoy this."

"Gratitude then?" he teased but he truly wondered if that's why she was doing this.

Emma kissed him again, searing and strong like that very first time in Neverland. "That was gratitude," she said, pulling back. "This," she rocked her hips against his. "This is not."

That's all he needed. Hell, it was more than he hoped for, that she wanted him just for the sake of wanting him. Killian wasted no more time and ran his hand up her body, claiming and gently kneading a breast and watching as Emma's eyes fluttered at the attention. Her hands followed, catching that thin grey shirt along the way and sweeping it off. Killian had to swallow hard at the sight. She was flawless, strong and lean, but absolutely luscious _woman_. The black lace covering her breasts made his mouth water and as much as he enjoyed the sight of her in it, he wanted it gone. Emma's hands were exploring his chest and stomach, carefully avoiding his injury, and he let his hand wander to the lace, looking for a clasp.

In the back. Only a couple hooks. Easy. It was like the entire purpose of the thing was to come off and he was completely tantalized with that idea.

Emma quickly tossed the lacy thing aside and Killian drew a sharp breath at the sight he was awarded with and shot up to taste, groaning in pain as his side protested and he collapsed back onto his pillow, cursing softly.

"I told you," she said gently.

"Come here, then," he groaned and the sound deepened when she complied and crawled over him.

Killian guided her so that her chest was braced over him and he leaned up to catch a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the hardened peak. Emma gasped, the sound hitting him low in his belly, and he ran his fingers up the furrow of her spine as he began to suckle, sometimes hard and sometimes gentle, she seemed to like both, before moving and lavishing the same attention on her other breast. She moaned his name and he let his lips travel up to her neck as her pulled her down closer.

Emma moaned again, the sound wild and promising, and kissed him furiously as she ground her hips into his, getting some friction going. It briefly crossed Killian's mind that he may not actually survive this, but he'd be damned if he let that stop him. In a hurry, Emma climbed out of bed and shucked the rest of her clothes, those long legs finally bare for his eyes, and he began to unlace his pants, noting that his boots were already gone, another thing she'd probably done for him. Her hands were soon helping him finish the job and before he knew it, he was as naked as she was and she was climbing onto the bed again, however, instead of straddling him, she was kissing a path down his belly and moving further down.

_She wasn't_ -

Oh, bloody fucking hell, she was.

Her warm, wet tongue was suddenly taking care of that already rock hard piece of him, flicking and stroking and absolutely driving him _mad_. He threw his head back and moaned as she licked a long line from base to tip. Who the hell was this woman who was at once a broken, lost girl, a tough, stubborn pirate, a gentle and soft heart, and a lusty and oh, so talented temptress? Was she even possible?

"Oh, fuck, Emma," he groaned loudly as she took him into her mouth and slowly took in more and more.

She was going to kill him and he was going to enjoy every bloody second of it. She began to move her head, bobbing along his length, sometimes diving so deep he could feel the back of her throat and he cried out every time. The little sucking that she was doing was squeezing whimpers from him and when she wrapped a firm hand around the base of him, he couldn't stop his hips from jerking forward. Any worry he had about accidentally hurting her quickly vanished as she released him from her mouth with a surprised laugh. God, she was beautiful.

Immediately, before she could return to it, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up to him, refusing the pained grunt from when she landed on his side and forgetting it completely as he kissed her hard. She was shaking with anticipation and adrenaline as she positioned herself over him and reached to guide him. He took a moment to stroke her softness, knowing he'd slow her down next time, and gasped with pleasure as he felt just how absolutely soaking wet she was. Oh yes, should he get a next time, he'd take care to love every inch of her, excruciatingly slow and thorough, but he couldn't deny that his body was burning for her and if she didn't get on him in the next minute, he'd lose his bloody mind.

He got his wish as soon as he thought it and he was sinking into her, inch by inch through such deliciously snug heat and watching as her mouth opened in disbelieving ecstasy as she settled on him until he was seated deep inside her.

"Emma," he called, trying to get her attention. "Emma." She looked at him, eyes wide and bright, her hair shining in the daylight from the windows, her skin glowing and flushed. "You are gorgeous, love," he told her breathlessly.

She blushed and managed a shy smile, such a contrast to the brazen hussy she'd been so far, and he loved it. Loved _her_. Emma braced her hands beside his head as she leaned over him and, after a little kiss on his nose, began to move. Her strokes were shallow at first but gradually lengthening, keeping a smooth and lazy pace that was making his body tremble and the hand in her hair tighten against his will. She didn't seem to mind, however.

This woman!

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, and Killian wasn't sure if he'd call it a moan or a gasp.

"No, love. Go. Just keep going," he encouraged desperately as he met her thrusts, ignoring the pain in his side.

What was pain when the woman he loved was riding him like this? He'd hurt later. Right now, Emma Swan was his, even if it was just a one time thing, and he'd love her and give her every bit he could, shower her with praise, and make her feel cherished and beautiful.

"Emma love," he moaned as she began to increase the pace and the burn. "That's it, sweetheart. Love, you feel incredible."

And she bloody did, too. Hot and wet, snug and sucking him in, her long hair brushing across his chest and her hips like silk as they moved against his, so soft and fluid. He made his hand leave her hair and made one long stroke of her body as she loved him, beginning to whimper as she drew closer to her cliff edge. Slipping between them, his fingers found her little nub and pressed against. She cried out and her strokes became harder and faster as she chased her climax, the realization making his heart soar as did the look of mounting pleasure on her face and the soft moans and gasps that were leaving her mouth with every decadent shove.

"Killian," she said, somewhere between a shriek and a keen.

"Let go, my love," he groaned, shifting his finger against her. "Come for me, Emma, my beautiful corsair. Let go, sweetheart."

Oh, she was a good girl, a brilliant, beautiful woman, and she hit her pleasure like a tempest at sea, throwing her head back, crying out, screaming his name, and it was beautiful, so, so beautiful, the best music he ever heard. Emma pushed herself to ride it out and Killian let the throbbing and quaking of her body pull him with her, and aided by a couple forceful thrusts, suddenly, he was there with her, his vision blurring, stars in his eyes, fire in his blood, and love coursing through him for this woman. He cried out her name, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside of her. Warmth, comfort, and luxury. Emma collapsed against his chest, no longer being as careful with his wound, but he couldn't care less. Killian couldn't feel anything but her and the pleasure she gave him. Bloody hell, he loved her.

Emma was breathing hard, her face in his neck, and Killian came back to himself and began to stroke her back. She was still trembling from her release but she reached up and ran her hand through his hair, soothing him as well. He didn't even know that he liked that, but dammit, it felt like heaven. She _was_ his heaven. Oh, but he was greedy, and he tilted her head up so she could kiss her brow, tasting the sweat and the flavor that was all her.

"Killian," she began.

His heart stopped. No! It was too soon! She couldn't go now! Fine, it was a one time thing, but let him have it for a little longer!

"I... I think I'm, maybe, a little in love with you," she said softly and hesitantly.

_What?_

His heart was flying. Did she really just say that? Was he hearing things? No. It wasn't possible.

"Are you going to say anything?" she asked, worry thick in her voice even though she tried to laugh about it.

"I'm...I'm trying to figure out if I'm dead or dreaming," he replied shakily.

Emma reached down and flicked his side near his stab wound and he yelped with the pain.

"Now?"

"Emma, do you mean it, love?" he breathed, lifting her head so she had to look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, I think I do," she said softly. There were tears beginning to form in her eyes. "You scared the hell out of me, you sonofabitch."

Killian kissed her again, full and solid on the cheek. "I'm sorry, love. Believe me, I'll fight through much more to stay with you. I love you, Emma."

A tear escaped her eye but she brushed it away before he could get to it, shifting her weight off of him and snuggling against his side. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Wouldn't have felt it if you did, my love," he smirked as she examined his stitches.

"Kill yourself making love," she scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd _love_ to go out that way, stupid man. You're fine, but we should probably get you to the hospital just to check it out."

"I'm fine, Emma," he shook his head. "I've had worse, believe me, and yes, I'd happily die making love to you, m'dear."

"Well, no more until you're healthy," she said with a small, bashful laugh.

"Are you saying there will be more?"

They stared each other down after that and Killian could feel his hope hanging by a thin strand. This woman, Emma Swan, his heart and the reason it beat, she could break him so very easily. He was glass in her hands.

Emma ran her thumb over his brow and reached up to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"It's not a one time thing, Killian."


	3. More Surprises

_More Surprises_

_Taken from a prompt on Tumblr by swaggercaption:_

_[Okay, so I need to do some productive work but I have a prompt idea where (somehow) Killian's heart is pulled out and everyone expects it to be black and cold but its actually red/gold and while there's black bits, you can see the gold and red growing to cover it up and its because of Emma. Someone please write it!]_

* * *

"What, like Pandora's Box?" Emma groaned.

_This fairytale shit, I swear._

"Are you sure we should be messing with that?" David asked, almost sounding as fed up with it all as she was, considering he was Prince Charming.

"It's fine," Gold answered them with that disdainful air of superior knowledge he always carried with him. "And we need it if we're going to defeat Pan."

"Okay, so what do we do?" Mary Margaret chimed in.

"It needs a dark heart to activate it. Pan will be drawn to the magic," Gold smirked. "Won't be able to help himself and then we can trap him inside."

"Kind of small for a teenager," Emma snarked.

"Dearie, when are you going to learn your rules aren't law?"

Emma huffed at that. She didn't care, really. Whatever would help them defeat Pan so she could get her son back, she'd consider all day long. "So, go on then," she grumbled. "You've got the dark heart, let's go."

"So judgmental, dearie," Gold sneered. "It can't be mine."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"It just can't!" he snapped right back.

He was hiding something, Emma knew it immediately and she glanced at Hook. Dammit, that was becoming a habit, but she saw the confirmation she was looking for. He heard it too.

"Well, you're not putting my heart in that box," Regina said immediately with a wave of her hands like she totally done with everything. "Why don't we just go over to Skull Rock and set the place on fire?"

"Oh, great plan, Regina," Neal grumbled.

"It's Pandora's Box!" she shrieked. "We should not even be touching the damn thing!"

Emma chewed on her lip as she blocked out the growing argument around her. She'd done some shady things in her lifetime, her heart might work, but the damn thing couldn't come out of her chest. Maybe they could try again. Or maybe, she thought as she side eyed the Evil Queen, she'd just jump Regina and hold her down for Gold.

"Use mine," came a bored voice she knew a little too well. The argument stopped at his suggestion and everybody stared at Hook. "What?" he shrugged. "We need a dark heart. I'm the obvious choice besides pinning Regina down and stealing hers."

Emma stood in complete shock. Not only had he voiced exactly what her plans were for Regina, there he was sacrificing himself, doing the exact opposite of the 'Look out for Yourself' motto she'd accused him a week ago. He was putting his life in their hands for the sake of her son! Her breathing became heavier as her own heart thudded softly. Did she know the pirate at all?

"Excellent," Gold smirked, rolling up his sleeve and stalking towards Hook.

"No!" Emma snapped suddenly, scaring even herself. "Um, does anyone else see the problem with the _Crocodile_ removing Captain Hook's heart?"

"She's right," David said immediately. "I don't like it."

"Fine!" Regina interrupted. "I'll do it."

Emma could do nothing to stop the memories of Graham that broke through their cage in her head, of him rambling about having no heart, that Regina took it, and then him lying dead on the floor of the sheriff's station, no heartbeat. She touched the shoelace on her wrist and took a deep breath to steady herself as she watched Regina's clawed hand reach for Hook's chest.

"No!"

"Now what?" Regina yelled, turning back to her with hands on her hips.

"Excuse me if I don't trust that you won't crush his heart once you're done with it!" Emma hollered back, throwing her hands up in the air. "Neither of you have any reason to not kill him and..." _Shit, Emma. Recover. _"And we need him to get us back to Storybrooke!"

"You know what?" Regina smirked. "You do it, then. 'Bout time she learned, don't you think, Gold?"

"I can't take a heart," Emma growled. The idea made her sick to her stomach.

"Sure you can, dearie," Gold said. "Regina never thought she could either."

"Is someone going to take this thing sometime today?" Hook sighed, sounding completely indifferent. His eyes told another story, however, as they looked straight at Emma with something akin to appreciation and gratitude.

"I don't know-" she began before Gold snatched her by the arm and pulled her in front of the pirate.

"It's simple," he said. "Remember what I said about magic being emotion? Well, we need Hook's worthless heart to save your son who will die if we don't get him from Pan."

It was certainly the right motivation, but as Gold moved away to enjoy the show, Emma hesitated and let her eyes flutter up to her victim, eyes so very blue and so very painfully trusting and believing. In _her._

"Hook-"

"Just reach in and grab it, Emma," he said low and gentle. "It's yours anyways."

_Oh, dammit. Don't. Stop beating like that, you stupid heart._

"What if I accidentally kill you?" she said quickly before she got too carried away with his words.

"You won't," he said with a shake of his head. "You can do it, love. You never fail."

Emma still hesitated even though she brought her hand up to hover over where his heart was, should be, hell she wasn't a doctor!

"Come on, Swan," he sighed with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Give me your best shot."

A short laugh bubbled from her lips and she took a deep breath and focused. Henry. She needed to save Henry, her son, whom she loved very much. He was her world. And she needed to not kill Hook in the process because, well, dammit, because she just might care about the bastard a little bit. Swirling in the love she felt for her son and the desperation she felt to save him as well as not murder her volunteer, Emma launched her hand into his chest. The flash of pain on his face spooked her, but she felt something warm and beating in her hand and jerked back out with the thing.

"Are you alright?" she gasped.

"Fine, Emma," he groaned softly. "Feels a bit odd, but I'm fine."

"Put it back," Gold growled.

"What?" Emma cried. "Why? I got it!"

"Emma, look," Mary Margaret said gently.

Emma looked down at the heart in her hand and wondered if Hook would ever stop surprising her. She wasn't an expert on magically removed hearts but she had a feeling that the black heart they needed, did not look like this. It had that faint red glow she remembered seeing with Aurora's heart, but small patches of gold gilded the thing here and there. There_ was _darkness, a swirl of black smoke inside the thing, but it didn't consume his heart or mar the golden flecks or the healthy red color as much as they had all no doubt expected.

Shame filled Emma's chest for thinking it'd be black enough. He was not a bad person. He'd shown that many times. Despite his history and the bad he'd done in his life, he was at his core a good man. Deep down, she already knew this, but the proof of it all was sitting there in her hands.

"What's wrong with it?" Hook said a bit indignantly.

"Fucking amateurs," Regina grumbled as she reached into her own chest and withdrew her heart, the thing scabbed over with black. "_That's_ what we need. Let's do it, already."

The group shifted their focus to whatever ritual Gold was about to perform, leaving Hook and Emma relatively alone.

"You're a lousy excuse for a villain, you know?" Emma said softly, still looking at the heart in her hands.

"Why's that?" he asked. She could tell he was a bit uncomfortable, not unlike when David toasted him for saving his life.

"What villain has gold in his heart?"

He smiled cheekily. "Pirate?"

Emma managed to smirk at that before shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, love. I'm surprised, truth be told, but I'm glad I could prove to you that I'm not all bad."

She shook her head as she met his eyes seriously. "I don't need this for proof."

A long moment passed between them as they simply stared at each other, the spell somehow comforting, but Emma could feel her fear mounting and shook herself from it.

"Come on. Let me see if I can put this back."

"You know I'll never say no to you putting your hands on me," he quipped with a wink, and, damn her, she laughed.


	4. New Traditions

_New Traditions_

_First Christmas Fic. Brace yourself guys, they're coming. This one was a prompt from vntage-misery on Tumblr:_

_How about Killian and Emma escaping her parents Christmas party so they can spend some time together?_

* * *

Emma had never been a big Christmas person. How could you be if you spent them alone most of your life? But she had family now and she was kind of excited and happy to finally do all the fun traditions like Christmas morning presents with coffee and breakfast, people to watch all the movies with, decorating trees and hanging lights (which ended up being hilarious as David pretty much just grumbled curses under his breath with every tangled strand), but this Christmas party that Mary Margaret decided to throw, it was a little much.

Maybe next year she'd feel more comfortable, but there was just so many people and once again, long standing tradition of solitary Yuletides made the abrupt change a little disorientating. So, Emma stood in the crowded apartment with her glass of dark red wine to match her silky dress and leaned against the wall to, you know, keep it from falling down as she observed all the merry-makers.

Mary Margaret must have invited the entire town and everywhere she looked she saw familiar faces drenched in happiness and laughter. Henry was excitedly telling some story to his father, David and Mary Margaret were obeying the mistletoe (hooray for poisonous fungus), Regina was actually managing to smile with her wine as she watched Henry and chatted with Archie, it was happiness all around but Emma couldn't help but feel a little out of place, even if she was feeling a bit of the Christmas joy.

As she scanned the room, her eyes found Hook and he was looking straight at her. It'd been interesting since their return from Neverland to say the least and Emma was not ignorant of the fact that he'd been by her side for all of it, whether he was helping her sort out some magical mess in Storybrooke or simply coming around to _court _her. The word gave her so many nauseating ideas of cheesy ways to win her, thanks to movies and television, but he was nothing textbook or typical and certainly not sickeningly sweet. No, he managed to somehow have his own brand of _courtship_, which shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. He was always the sassy pirate with his suggestive comments and teasing brows and quips while still managing to apply to her heart, his words making her melt even though she'd never admit it, and his eyes when he got serious, so clear and honest, she could swear that she could see his soul. It was those eyes that she locked with across the room and they communicated silently that way for a moment until he tilted his head towards the door and she nodded whole-heartedly.

Was it love she was starting to feel for him? Honestly, with the craziness that Storybrooke had been in since their return from Neverland, she hadn't really taken the time to examine it. As she made her way to the door, however, she knew that no matter what her head was saying, with all it's fearful warnings to guard her heart, she liked being around him quite a bit.

"Absolutely gorgeous, Emma," he said as she stepped outside the apartment door to find Hook already sitting on the stairs and looking her over with appreciation.

He looked pretty good himself, strange without his leather, but the man was handsome in anything. Dark wash jeans sat on trim hips with a black leather belt and a long-sleeve, button up shirt in black, of course, graced his torso. Simple and elegant, the pirate was. He still wore his earring and Emma knew that his pirate's necklace was still hanging around his neck and hidden under his shirt.

"Thank you," she smiled as she took a seat beside him. He tried not to stare at her legs for too long. Gentleman? You betcha. "Are we scaring you with all this?"

Hook laughed. "Pirate, lass. I'm not afraid of a good time especially when there's a pretty woman present."

She rolled her eyes at him but smiled nonetheless.

"You looked like it was getting to you," he continued with a question mark in his tone.

"Christmas puts a lot of emphasis on family," she explained. "It's just different since this is the first time I've actually had a real family to share it with."

"Aye, you have a lot of love to get used to," he said simply but Emma heard the implication and looked away, blushing. She knew very well what he was telling her. "I'm told that besides the tradition of being with one's family for the holiday, there is also a gift giving aspect."

"Oh, yeah? Who told you that?"

"Your son," Hook laughed. "It isn't hard to tell what Henry's favorite part is."

Emma returned his laughter. "Nope, it's not."

"So, Emma Swan, I have a gift for you."

"Oh... Hook, you didn't have to," she cringed, her blush fighting for round two.

"Hush, Swan," he said playfully as he removed his hand from his pocket. "Why in the world would I pass up an opportunity to give you something, my dear? How could I miss a chance to make you smile?"

Okay, shit. The blush won.

Ducking her head to lamely try and hide her smile, she saw him open his hand and found a pair of sparkling and dangling earrings, littered with diamonds and emeralds. They were beautiful and she felt her jaw fall open a bit that such a gift would be for her.

"Should I take the pretty part in your lips to mean you like them?" he asked.

She laughed once. "They're gorgeous."

"Good, they're perfect for you then."

Emma smiled again and reached for one, but hesitated as a thought struck her. Maybe she'd only get burned in the end, though she was beginning to seriously doubt it, but right in that moment she wanted to open up a bit more with this man, wanted to flirt with him a little and enjoy whatever it was they were slowly building.

"I've always wondered how you get yours on with one hand," she said flirtatiously, removing her current earrings before leaning closer to him. "Why don't you show me?"

He lifted an eyebrow, stunned that she was actually playing the game, and laughed in delight and surprise. "My love, these are simply hooks. I think you just want me to touch you."

Emma didn't budge and let her smile tell him that yes, that was exactly the case. He got it and scooted closer to her, wrapping his hooked arm around her waist, and taking an earring in his hand, he brushed back her hair, letting his fingertips graze her throat before gently sliding the earring into its new home.

_Okay, it's just an earring. I should not be this turned on right now._

He repeated the gestured with her other ear, this time placing a feather light kiss under her earlobe when he was done, the brief contact making her shiver.

"Thank you," she breathed, unsteady, excited, and genuinely thankful for the gift.

"Anytime, Emma."

She was suddenly overwhelmed with it all. His nearness, his care and attention, the way her heart was thumping in her chest, and the memory of what it was like to kiss him, and she couldn't remember why she was supposed to be keeping a wary eye on her heart, so she closed the short distance between them and kissed him hard but slow, savoring the flavor of him and the way his mouth moved with hers.

It was a long time before they came up for air and rested their foreheads against each other, struggling to breathe normally.

"I'm sorry," Emma panted. "I didn't get you anything."

"You just did," he said, just as breathless and with a small chuckle.

"Well," she said with a devious smile. "You did get me _two_ earrings. You want another one?"

He smirked and pulled her closer as their lips met again, drawing her legs over his lap.

They'd return to the party eventually, but that night, after everyone left and found their beds, they'd stay up to watch the stars on the Jolly's deck, finding constellations and making their own, and once the cold became too much and their eyes were far too heavy, they'd cuddle up on the Captain's bunk and drift off to sleep in each other's arms.


	5. Sick Leave

_Sick Leave_

* * *

It'd been a couple days since he'd seen her. Since their return from Neverland, a great number of new problems and issues kept her fairly busy, hell, kept them _all_ busy, and Killian had become accustomed to seeing her on a daily basis, whether some emergency required his assistance or he simply tracked her down with an excuse to see her. This day, however, was the third day he hadn't been able to find her and it bothered him. As he leaned up against the alley wall with an eye on the sheriff's station, he saw David's truck pull up, yet again, and the prince walk inside, ready to play lawman and that job belonged to his Swan.

_Not yours yet, mate._

Killian sighed. How do you apply to a woman's heart if you cannot bloody find her? He hadn't stalked her apartment, wanting to court the lady not scare her, but he was worried now and made up his mind at once to go and figure out why she was hiding.

Snow was out, a teacher apparently, and that yellow car of Emma's was parked up front where it belonged. It was early yet, barely eight in the morning, and not wanting to bombard her at the young hour, he climbed the rickety stairs on the backside of the building, hoping to find a window to peek through just to make sure she was alright.

He never imagined he'd get _her_ window.

In a small room, in a bed piled high with blankets, was burrowed the object of his affections and she immediately spotted him and rolled her eyes in the dim room. Killian kicked himself for not thinking that she might be ill, but she was such a tough thing that he never thought it possible.

"It's not good form to spy on people through their own damn windows," she called out grumpily, the sound muffled by the glass between them.

"I was worried you might be purposely avoiding me, sweetheart," he called back with a grin.

She got the same muffled sound and after huffing her frustration she weakly waved him to come in, which he did immediately, lifting the window and climbing inside quickly before too much of the chilly air got in. She looked so tired and pale, truly not feeling her best, and as much as he loved teasing her, knowing she had caught cold made him decide to give her a break from his usual teasing and he sat on the bed and felt her forehead.

"No fever," she said, her voice only slightly hoarse. "I'm medicated, I'm drinking fluids, I'm trying to stay warm, I should have this kicked pretty soon."

"Do you need anything?"

She paused a bit, no doubt surprised that he was offering, before she swept her hand to the bedside table and its variety of bottles and pills. "I've got everything you can imagine. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

"Aye, I never doubted that," he agreed softly. "But do you need anything else?"

"Dammit, Hook," she growled. "No, I don't need kisses, or sex, or anything else you might be suggesting right now."

Killian gave a good laugh at that. Of course she'd think that. "Lass, I was not suggesting that in the slightest. I'm serious." He waited for her to hear the truth behind his words for a moment. "Have you done anything about that throat?"

She picked up a small wrapped up piece of something and shook it at him. "Cough drops."

He shook his head. Not good enough, whatever the hell they were. Her throat was obviously raw. "Do you have a kettle?"

"In the kitchen. Why? Wait. Hook?"

He was already on his way downstairs, fiddling with the stove once he landed. Everything was so bloody different in this realm but he prided himself on being able to adapt and do so quickly. The essentials were always the same and he'd already picked up quite a bit in the short amount of time he'd been there. He rummaged through cabinets, after setting the kettle on the fire, finding the things he needed and before too long he was taking a hot mug upstairs to Emma.

"What the hell are you doing?" she groaned.

"Here," he said, handing the mug over to her. "Not the best tasting, but it's good for your throat. Careful, lass, it's a touch hot."

Emma pulled herself up and held the mug in her hands without drinking, staring at him like he'd sprouted a new head.

"It's not poison, Swan," he finally growled at her. Dammit, she should know better by now.

"I didn't..." she began before she shook her head and blew gently and took a careful sip.

"I told you, love," he said as she grimaced at the flavor.

"It's not the worst thing I've ever had, but what the hell is it?"

"Tea with honey, bit of lemon, and a healthy dose of whiskey."

Emma chuckled low before taking another sip. She seemed confused and unsure of herself for a spell before speaking to him again. "Thank you."

It was genuine and a shot of warmth spread through his heart that he'd been able to be of some use to her. "Don't worry about it, Emma," he murmured, dropping his gaze from her. "Are you sure I can't do anything for you, lass?" Emma shook her head gently. "Right then," he sighed, standing and making his way back to the window. "I'll let you rest. We'll resume our _fun _when you're up for it."

"Hey," she croaked as he was halfway through the window. He paused and waited for her as she hesitated. "Keep me company?" she offered with an interesting quirk to her brow, like she couldn't believe she was asking. "I mean, unless you have something else to do."

"No," Killian said hurriedly. To say he was surprised was putting it mildly. "I can stay if you want."

"Okay," she nodded, nervous now. "There's not shit on TV and my head's too foggy to read. It won't be a lot of fun," she warned.

"I'll stay," he promised, brushing off her warning. He'd be with her and that's all that bloody mattered to him.

"Okay," she nodded and swallowed. She glanced around the room nervously before throwing a quick jerky motion to the spot beside her on the bed. "Um, better make yourself at home then. Keep your boots off the bed."

He chuckled as he obediently removed them and his heavy coat, which he draped over the chair in the room, the chair she could have offered him. He wasn't about to suggest the thing. No, he climbed into her bed, _fully clothed_, he laughed to himself, and propped his back against the headboard and crossed his ankles.

Outward calm, internal madness.

"So," she began quietly. "Where'd you learn how to make this?"

"I've lived a long time, as you well know. Please allow that somewhere along the way I've been ill."

She laughed. "It's hard to imagine Captain Hook with a cold."

"Perhaps," he ventured carefully and with a small smile, "It would be easier if it was Killian Jones with cold?"

Emma looked at him for a moment as she chewed that beautiful bottom lip of hers before she gave him a little smirk. "Yeah, maybe it is." A pause. "What's _he_ like?"

Killian stared at her, amazed that she was showing an interest, in _him_. "I believe you know him better than anybody, love."

Emma thought about that one for a little bit. "Okay, but I don't know _about_ him."

"Well," Killian said, brightening a bit to cover up the rioting emotions inside of him. "He's exceptionally handsome, a ladies' favorite. Irresistibly charming -"

"Oh, Jesus," Emma scoffed dryly with rolled eyes. "Tell me something I didn't know."

"Eh?" Killian nearly yelped at the backhanded compliment.

"You heard me," she grumbled into her mug. "I'm not saying it again."

Killian had to swallow hard before he could smirk but the smirk soon turned bitter. His story wasn't a happy one. "What do you want to know?"

Emma shrugged. "Whatever you want to give me."

_Everything, love. I want to give you everything._

"Um." He paused to clear his throat before lifting up his hook. "I used to have another hand."

The look she gave him told him that she was not having it and Killian chuckled and sighed as he dug through the years for something he could tell her about himself until he remembered the conversation he shut down in Neverland, when she asked about his brother. As much as he was loathe to put another weapon in the woman's hands, she already had his heart and his love, he decided to let her in a little. After all, she asked for his company and surely that must count for something!

"My brother's name was Liam," he said low with a shrug. For a memory so old, it still hurt like hell. "He was my Captain and I was his Lieutenant."

"Military?" Emma chirped up in surprise.

"Aye, love," he said. "Navy to be exact. Before I defected."

"Why?"

Killian knew the question would come and he struggled a moment with the best way to answer her without showing just how much the answer affected him. "You know he died. It was under the service of a corrupt king," he explained as he fixed his eyes on the bed.

"And you became a pirate rather than serve the bastard," Emma finished for him.

Killian could only nod, far too emotional with the memories and the fact that Emma understood him. Clearing his throat again, he attempted some levity. "I had much longer hair."

Emma nearly spewed her tea and laughed until she started coughing. "Holy shit, really?" she gasped once she stopped. "I can't picture it."

He smiled, glad that he could make her laugh, but his face quickly became a frown again as he tried to beat back the memories. Emma, love her forever, took pity on him and moved on to something simpler.

"Favorite color?" she offered.

"Um," he chuckled. "You know in over three hundred years, I don't know that I've ever stopped to have one."

"Come on," she cajoled playfully.

Killian sighed and tried to think. "I suppose blue. That blue the sea gets at it's deepest point."

"So, black?" she teased, coughing a bit into her elbow before taking a soothing drink of her tea.

"No! Lass, it's blue!" he protested. "You'll have to let me prove it to you sometime."

"Okay," she agreed easily, stunning him once again. "Favorite food?"

"Love, I'm a pirate. My diet is fairly simple and dull."

"I know, but there has to be _something,_" she pressed.

He sighed again, this time with more humor. It was still shocking him that she was interested in the tiniest things and he worried briefly that he'd disappoint or bore her, for truly, he'd lived so long as simply Captain Hook without taking any enjoyment in life at all. He didn't make room for anything for revenge and all the memories before that time in his life were either forgotten or tinged with bitterness. For her, however, he dug them out, surprising himself with the things he _did_ remember.

"I like sweet things," he admitted with a smile. "I haven't had a slice of cake since I was still in the royal navy."

Emma stared at him for a moment, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of shock, curiosity, and tenderness, tenderness that completely took his breath away.

"Captain Hook has a sweet tooth," she giggled finally. "Stay out of Granny's. When you have cake again, I want to see your face!"

He laughed with her at that before moving in close to her and cocking an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you lot call a _date_, lass?"

"Cake date?" she snorted. "Most dates in this world are drinks."

"Well, that's certainly interesting. That means we've already had one, darling. In Neverland. Several of them, in fact."

Emma rolled her eyes before coughing a laugh. "Hmm. In dark, scary Neverland with crazed Peter Pan and his armed Lost Boys? Gee, Hook. You really know how to show a girl a good time."

"You have no idea, love," he said with a wink.

She laughed again, and even tinged with her cold as it was, it was music to his ears. Her face lit up, as did her eyes, and Killian was enchanted. It didn't bloody matter to him if she was completely covered in blankets and warm clothing, if her hair was slightly mussed, her nose was red, and there were circles under her eyes. Emma Swan was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

"Tell me something else," she prompted, still chuckling.

"I love you," he said simply before he realized just what had come out of his mouth.

_Damn it, Jones._

He looked away from her and bit his tongue. What a big damned fool. Here he was, trying to gently persuade her to hand over her heart knowing full well just how skittish she was and how quickly she could throw her walls up, and he just used the three worst words possible.

"Lass," he began. "I'm sorry. I-"

"It's fine," she said quickly, not meeting his eyes. "I, um, I think I'm going to try and take a nap."

_Jones, you bloody hollow-skulled bastard._

"No problem," he said, moving to get off the bed. "I'll see you around, Swan."

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Beg your pardon?"

Emma shook her head at him and bit down on that lip again. "I'll still need company when I wake up. Stick around for a while?"

Unable to speak, barely able to communicate between his head and his limbs, Killian swallowed thickly and nodded, moving to help tuck her deeper into the blankets as she got comfortable. That done, he returned to his spot on the bed, carefully maintaining a non-threatening distance, but Emma had other ideas as she rolled over to face him and beckoned him to copy her. If he was a lesser man, he would have been shaking with the emotions running through him, but he kept it all under lock and key as he made himself comfortable on his side, facing the woman turning him inside out. A little smile graced her face before she closed her eyes and, hell he was already pushing his luck, Killian reached out with his hand and lightly brushed her hair back off of her face.

"Is this how you win my heart, Killian Jones? By having pity on me when I'm sick?" she whispered, the sound of his name on her lips effectively ripping his heart out of his chest more efficiently than any Queen or Crocodile could.

"Not sure, lass," he replied just as softly. "Is it working?"

Emma said nothing, only smiled faintly again before sighing and focusing on her sleep. "I'm sending you for cake when I wake up, and then I'm going to teach you a card game," she mumbled.

_Bloody well taking that as a 'yes'._


	6. Sick Leave Part 2

_Sick Leave Part 2_

_AN: Had a few requests for the cake date mentioned in the first part of this, so here were are. Right where we left off. -Dani_

* * *

Emma's voice woke him up. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, wasn't even tired, but curled up beside her, warm and comfortable, it lured him right into deep relaxation.

"Sorry," Killian mumbled, shaking the sleep from him.

"Don't be," she scoffed. "I don't expect you to keep watch while I sleep."

Emma rolled to her bedside table, checked the clock, which read as 10:30, before grabbing a leather pouch and producing money in those rather worthless looking pieces of green paper.

"Cake," she said, sounding groggy and gorgeous while pressing the money into his hand. "Go to Granny's and get two big slices of whatever looks good and bring it back. Please. If I have soup again, I'm going to die."

Killian chuckled at her melodrama. "Alright, love, but I don't need your money."

"You can't pay in doubloons, pirate."

"Of course I can. Granny happens to love the arrangement," he informed her.

It's not like he'd not been eating anything but his ship's rations since they'd returned from Neverland. Pirate and sailor, yes, but he enjoyed and appreciated a good meal if he could get it and the owner of the diner was more than happy to work out a payment arrangement with him once she saw the glitter. He had a tab and when it got low, she let him know, always fair in her price.

Emma stared at him for a moment with surprise in her brow before nodding and taking back the money. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, love. I'll return shortly."

As ever, he was true to his word. Only a little while later, he was crawling back through her window with the brown bag which he handed to a healthier looking Emma. She'd taken a shower while he was out and dried and combed out her hair, the golden tresses more tempting to him than all the treasure in the world.

"You look like you're feeling better," he mentioned as he removed his coat and boots again.

She gave him a little smile. "I think the tea helped."

"Good." Motioning to his vest, he asked her, "Do you mind, love?"

She hesitated a moment, but eventually nodded. "Nothing else, though."

Killian snorted as he placed the heavy leather with his coat and crawled back into her bed. "Well, lass, since you won't let me leave your bed except for food purposes, figured I may as well be comfortable."

Emma rolled her eyes at him, the reaction he was expecting, but smiled, a reaction he was not. She made herself busy pulling the two white boxes out of the bag and the black forks, thrusting one at him before popping the lid on the first cake.

"Mmm," she hummed happily at the thick piece of chocolate cake with frosting before moving to the next, a vanilla cake with cream filling and strawberries, appreciating that one just as much. "Good taste, Jones."

"I didn't know what you liked," he admitted, desperately wanting to find out that little detail about her.

"This isn't about me," she said, looking at him with a wide grin. "You're the one who's been without cake for years. Which one do you want?"

Pursing his mouth, his eyes switched between the two confections, before he smirked at Emma, forked a bit of the chocolate cake, and popped it in his mouth, his eyes closing with pleasure immediately. It was sensory overload. Soft, dark, fluffy, and absolutely delicious with an unexpected surprise of raspberry jam.

"Bloody hell," he groaned after he swallowed.

Emma began to laugh and he looked up to see the bright smile and happiness on her face. "That good, huh?"

"Bloody fantastic. Swan, hurry up or there will be none left for you."

With a small giggle, she went for the chocolate cake and he moved to take a bite of the other. It was lighter, but the cream was like heaven and the strawberries exploded in his mouth. Emma followed him and they both appraised each other before both pointing their forks back to the chocolate one with a shared laugh.

"Okay," Emma announced, moving the favorite cake out of the way. "We'll save that one for last."

They ate in companionable silence and Killian couldn't remember when he'd done something so simple that was so damn enjoyable. It was silly having as much fun as he was, but then again, how could he not enjoy this? Emma was allowing him to spend time with her while they acted like children, eating sweets for the sheer hell of it. There was no emergencies, no dramatic scenes, it was just them enjoying the other's company. Feeling too good and unable to stop himself, Killian swiped a bit of cream on his finger and plopped it on her cheek.

"Really?" she groaned and he could only laugh at her fed-up expression and tone. She shook her head at him, fighting a smile the best she could, before she leaned in and challenged him. "Well, you put it there. Get it off."

"I don't think you'll particularly like the way I do that, love," he snickered at her before he sucked the cream off his finger.

"What's wrong, Jones? Afraid you can't handle it?"

Well, she asked for it.

Killian smirked and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck to pull her closer, opening his mouth wide to cover the smear on her cheek, sucking gently to remove it while letting his tongue help. It was wet, it was sloppy, it was delicious, and he had to stop himself from moaning when he finally pulled away, her cheek pink and glistening, the air around them crackling with the moment.

"No," he whispered, still close to her face. "I can't handle it."

He saw her swallow hard and could feel the shiver that ran though her body since his hand was still in her hair and their lips were only inches apart. He wanted to kiss her, to taste the cake on her tongue, but it was her decision. In these rickety stages of their courtship, he'd let her choose to kiss, but all bets were off once she finally handed over that beautiful heart of hers, God help the lass.

"I'm going to get you sick," she breathed unsteadily, still not pulling back from their proximity.

"If that's an excuse, love, it's the worst one you've ever had."

She still didn't move and Killian was just about to pull away and release her when she tilted her head up just enough to softly press her lips to his. They froze there, simply enjoying the connection for a moment before they began to move. Despite the frantic thudding of his heart and the passion that hummed between them, this kiss of theirs was soft, gentle, bloody chaste, but more than he could've ever hoped for. Eventually, she let her tongue coax his mouth open and they tasted each other briefly and sweetly before she pulled away.

There was no use in her saying 'one time thing' again and she knew it. As she ducked her head, focusing on her cake, a beautiful blush spread across her cheeks and Killian held his breath as he waited for the 'I think you should go' portion of the morning. He hated it, but he wouldn't take back the kiss for anything in the world. Before the silence could get too heavy, however, Emma stunned him yet again.

"Killian," she began softly. "Um, thanks for the cake. And the tea. And the company."

He had to scramble for his mouth to work. "Aye, lass. Anytime."

"You better hurry before I eat all this by myself," she smirked, still holding on to that uncommon but utterly fascinating bashfulness.

"I'll have you flogged," he teased, snatching the final strawberry before she could.

"Like hell you will."

Killian reached for the other cake, opening the box as Emma cleared the empty one away, but before he could get a bite, a thumb of chocolate frosting swept over his cheek.

"Minx!" he gasped as she bubbled with laughter like the little demon she was. "Well, I believe you know what happens next, love," he prompted.

Emma, bless her, didn't even bat an eye. She grinned like a vixen before leaning in, copying his move in sucking the chocolate from his face, open mouth, wet tongue, lingering lips. He couldn't stop the moan this time, but as floored as he was, it came out as a small sigh. He was only a man and the sensation sent a bolt of heat through him, his pants tightening, but he kept his hand to himself, not trusting himself to not get carried away and not wanting to frighten her or push her. She kept going, however, despite having already accomplished her task, and her lips traced his jawline as her hand tentatively, and then _not so tentatively_, felt his body, moving from his stomach to up where his shirt revealed his chest, where she let her fingers curl gently into the hair as she continued to place soft kisses on his face.

He was going to die.

Before he could, however, Emma pulled back abruptly, fear in her eyes as she realized what she just did.

"Please don't," he breathed. "Please don't hide from me, Emma."

He was begging, sure, but he couldn't take it if she threw her walls up now. They'd spent the morning perfectly and happily and she'd reacted in a natural way. It was an expression of how good she felt that she'd been willing to play, but now that her fear was back, along with memories of her past, she was retreating. It killed him to see her so closed off, so obviously wanting, _deserving,_ to be loved while knocking him back.

"I don't know that I can do this again," she finally whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Killian gave a little sigh of relief at her honesty. "For one thing, Emma, you and I would not be an '_again_'. I'm not Neal, love. I'm not those who have hurt you and left you," he said softly. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Emma. When I come around to spend time with you, I'm not asking you to settle our accounts immediately. I simply wish to spend time with you, to prove to you that I'm a decent man, and hopefully earn a little of your affections. Then someday, when you decide that you want me, you'll come to me without hesitation."

She stared at him, all wide-eyed and lovely, and he held her gaze, watching the waves of different emotions that passed through them: fear, anxiety, and the tiniest bit of tenderness. It was a minor victory then, but one that he'd celebrate nonetheless. Or, perhaps not a minor victory after all, he thought, as she reached for his shoulder, giving his arm a light stroke before letting a small smile free for him.

"Um, there's a deck of cards on the desk over there, if you want to grab them," she offered a little shakily.

Killian returned her smile before hurrying to do as she bid so that he could quickly return to the bed. "What are we gambling with, m'dear?"

She chuckled and just like that, they were back to their rhythm. "Oh, no! I'm not gambling with you. We're going to play for fun."

"Not sure where the difference is, love."

"Fun, as in enjoyment of the game, not betting," she explained.

It was his turn to roll his eyes as he forked another piece of their cake and she shuffled. "Where the bloody hell is the fun in that? Afraid you'll lose something important, Emma?"

"Yeah, like my clothes," she drolled, nearly making him choke. "I don't trust you not to want something outrageous."

Killian laughed loud and long at that. "As tantalizing as the idea is, love, and we should definitely try it someday, I wasn't thinking of getting you naked while you're ill."

"Well, I'm fresh out of gold," she quipped, dealing the cards.

"Fortunately for you, lass, this pirate takes other forms of payment."

Emma snorted at that. "Yeah, I can only imagine what those are."

"A kiss, Emma," he grinned, wondering if he was pushing his luck. "We can play for kisses."

"Who says I want your kisses?" she protested, to which he only responded with silence and a quirked eyebrow.

Emma had the grace to at least _appear _like she accepted defeat before she thought about the proposition for a moment, surprising the hell out of him, and then finally keeling him over for good.

"Alright. Fine," she said, a challenge in her tone and posture. "Let's play."


	7. P is for Presents

_P is for Presents_

_Christmas Smuff warning_

* * *

It was early. Just shy of 6:30. Too early for Christmas morning, but with the view of her sleeping husband, Emma couldn't convince herself to go back to sleep.

Killian's face was so boyish when he slept, such a contrast to the fierce captain, sultry lover, and vengeful pirate he could be, but it was just another glimpse of the many sides of that man. Killian Jones was not just one thing

Smiling with love for him, Emma decided to give him a proper wake up. They only had until 9:00 before Mary Margaret, David, and Henry came over to open presents and if she started now, they'd get a good two hours before they had to get up and be presentable.

He was sprawled on his back, the sheet already low on his trim hips, which made her job easier as she gently uncovered him and stealthily slid between his open legs. Keeping a cautious eye on his face, wanting to get him really ready before he was conscious, Emma warmed up her hands and grasped him, stroking gently to coax him to hardness. His body responded to her touch almost instantly and Emma had to stifle a giggle. Killian's face was changed ever so slightly and a little moan left the back of his throat. She didn't have too much longer until he woke, she figured, so she dipped and got serious, licking long thorough strokes and drawing a few more sleep thick sounds from him. Killian was rock hard beneath her tongue so with a final glance up at his pretty face, Emma took all of him in her mouth, sucking hard before she got to work, bobbing along his absolutely luscious length.

The surprised gasp and shout that left his mouth let her know he was finally wide awake.

"Emma," he groaned, his hand coming to thread into her hair and grip. "Oh, bloody hell, love. Good morning to you, too.

She laughed around his cock, making him cry out a little before she released him with a wet pop. "Thought I'd give you your Christmas present early."

Killian took his freedom to pull her up to lie on his chest as she spoke. "I realize this is my first time to celebrate the holiday, but somehow I doubt that what you were just doing qualifies as a Christmas present."

"Oh, well then someone told you wrong," she chuckled. "But hold on, pirate, there's more."

Before he could question her, she lined herself up and pushed down, taking all of him inside of her already ready body. Killian groan was mixed with his happy and still sleepy laughter and he immediately adjusted his head on his pillow and began to meet her strokes. Emma put everything she had into their lovemaking, she always did, but this was a special day. She just needed a little bit longer...

"Emma," Killian breathed beneath her as his hand stroked her thigh and hip as he thrust his perfect hips into hers. "You're so beautiful when you ride me, love. So bloody beautiful."

Smiling, she reached her hands up into her hair and tossed it playfully before shaking her head to scatter the curls some more, all the while still rolling her hips over his.

"Oh, God, Emma!" he moaned. "My vixen. Come on, sweetheart. Give me all you got."

Emma laughed with joy and teased him some more, sliding her hands slowly over her breasts, massaging before tweaking her nipples and enjoying the fire that blazed in his eyes before she moved her hands lower.

"Killian?" she breathed, starting to feel the approach of both their climaxes.

"Yes, Emma?"

"I love you."

A grin spread over his face and coupled deliciously with the pleasure already there. "And I am so bloody glad of it. I love you, Emma, even more than I love what you're doing to me right now."

A whimper marred the giggle that burst from her lips as she began to breathe a little heavier like her pirate and when she said his name again, it was desperate sounding and mewling.

"Yes, love?" he groaned, starting to pump into her a little more seriously, his eyes drifting to where they were joined.

"I'm pregnant."

_Aaaand brakes._

Killian froze, his brilliant blue eyes snapping back to hers, shock written into every inch of his handsome face. "Love? You're... you're... pregnant?"

Biting her lip nervously, Emma nodded. "Merry Christmas?"

"Merry... How long have you known?"

"Um, well I've been suspicious for a while but I went to the doctor a few weeks ago and he confirmed it for me. I'm a little over two months." Emma's nerves finally got the better of her and his stunned silence was not helping. "Is this okay? I mean, I know we haven't really talked about it _that_ much, but I-"

Her rapid fire speech was cut off as Killian bolted up and crashed his lips into hers, kissing her like he'd never kissed her before, and rolled so that she was under him and he was still buried deep within her.

"You're pregnant!" he cried once they parted for air.

Emma took note of the absolute joy on his face and the hint of water in his eyes. "So, you're happy?"

"Happy?" he exploded. "Love of mine, I'm... I'm far more than happy. Thank you, Emma. Thank you." He kissed her again, this one not as furious as the last, and his hand moved over her breasts and her only slightly thicker stomach. "I bloody well _thought_ something was different."

Laughter bubbled out of her lips. "I know! I was afraid you'd guess before I could surprise you!"

He chuckled with her. "And what a surprise it was, m'dear. I'm afraid my gift for you will be nothing to this."

Emma reached her arms around her husband's neck. "You've already given me everything I need."

Killian gave her a quick peck on the lips before he quirked one of her favorite eyebrows. "Well, suppose I give you something just for the hell of it, then?" he suggested with a good buck of his hips.

A contented groan worked it's way from her chest as she curved her body against his. "Mmm. Please, do. Come on, daddy," she teased. "Show me what you got."

They melted into laughter and moans as they picked up where they left off, rolling in love, joy, hope, and a pretty damn nice Christmas.

And it was only 7AM.


	8. Come Back to Me

_Come Back to Me_

* * *

Emma paced outside the police station waiting for the leather wearing, slightly sexy, fake-hand wielding weirdo to come out. God! She had better uses for her money than bailing out potential serial killers/stalkers/mental patients but there she was, forking over dough like it was nothing, like she had no choice but to save him, like she couldn't leave him behind, not again...

A frustrated growl left her throat. What the hell did she mean by "not again"? She'd never met the lunatic! He just showed up at her door, knew her name, and spoke like a crazy person. Then he kept following her and caught her in the park that morning. She had every right to not only knee him in the jewels that first time but also to holler at the cops for the last and most recent one.

_Stop following me!_

_Just listen, please, love. I'm begging you._

_Stop calling me that!_

_As you wish, my lady._

As you wish.

Why were three little words haunting her so damn much? He'd said them a bit cheekily as the cops handcuffed him and drug him away, a cavalier grin on his lips that said he had no intention of dropping the endearment and that he'd see her again, somehow, while she could do nothing but stand there. His words struck a chord in her. But how? She didn't know the guy! Those three little words made no sense but even more confusing were the words and pictures attached to them.

Firewood. Bean. Compass. Map. Lost Girl. Family. Stolen hearts. Magic clouds. And the taste of rum, the feel of ocean breezes, the ring of steel, and the sense that she _knew_ the softness of his tongue, and that if she checked his leather jacket, she'd find where her fingernails had dug into it as she pulled him close, somewhere, once upon a time.

Emma clenched her hands into fists, still pacing, still waiting. What bothered her more than the flashes of words, nonsensical in how they were connected, was the flash of a memory, an impossible fucking memory, but it rang clearer than any of the other jumbled nonsense, and she was going to get a damn answer for why it was in her head.

On cue, the doors opened and out strode the strangely dressed man, taking a moment to assess his surrounding before those blue eyes, the eyes screaming _forget-me-not_, landed on her and his face lit up like she was his whole reason for being. Fucking weird.

"Emma, love," he breathed, incredulous, as he approached her.

She shot her hand out, warning him to keep his distance, and gritted out her demanding words. Surely, she'd finally lost her mind to be even having this conversation. "Why do I _think_ I remember a beanstalk?"

Those perfect brows shot up in surprise. "You remember?"

"No, I _don't_ remember climbing a beanstalk because that is impossible! But," she hesitated. "I can't get the idea out of my head."

He nodded like he knew he had work to do and was ready to go. "When you and I first met, Emma, we did indeed climb a beanstalk."

"Don't fuck with me!" she hollered. "Tell me the truth!"

"Emma, look at me, love. You know very well when I'm lying, believe me. I learned that very quickly and I swear on my life, I am not lying. Just listen, please."

Emma nodded once and sharply and he sighed a little in relief. "You remember the beanstalk? Do you remember anything else? What we said? What we did?"

Still not sure why she was playing along, Emma focused on the quickly dissolving flash of... whatever the hell it was and her frown deepened when she heard his voice there. She had to replay it a few times to get the words. "Tough lass," she whispered finally.

A beautiful grin spread across his face and returned her whisper. "You'd make a hell of a pirate."

Emma shook herself suddenly. This was insane. "You're crazy! How am I remembering things that never happened?" she shouted at him as she began to panic.

"Love-"

"I said don't call me that!"

"Aye, and I didn't listen. Love, they did happen. I swear to you." He paused to swallow and shake his head a bit. "Last year you were in Maine. Do you remember why?"

"I was driving home," she argued.

"From where and to what home? Where were your bags?"

"I- I was moving. I didn't have a lot of stuff," she said, a feeling of unease creeping through her.

The man laughed. "You didn't have anything but the clothes on your back, love. I remember because I watched you and your son drive away to flee the curse." He withdrew a glass bottle of pink/purple stuff from his jacket. "This will give you back your memories, Emma. Look at me. You know I'm not lying. Try something new, darling. Please."

"Do I look stupid?" she laughed to cover up how shaken she was. How did he do that with words? "I'm not just going to drink something a complete stranger gave me. How do I know that isn't poison?"

"Well, first of all because you and I are much better hacking at each other with steel but also because I wouldn't poison you in public in front of lawmen, had I a mind to. Give me a bit of credit, Swan."

Emma glared at him. If she just drank this thing and got it over with, nothing would happen, and he would have to finally leave her alone. He was right, damn him, about the lying thing. She knew. There was no mistaking he was telling the truth about no poison. As for the other crap... well, jury was still out.

Huffing a sigh she held out her hand. "Fine, hand it over, but after this you leave me the hell alone. Got it?"

Another of his impossibly adorable smiles lit up his face and Emma felt a pang of regret that someone so damn gorgeous was crazy as all hell.

"Ah, that's my Swan. Never were one to turn down a drink," he joked.

"Do you want me to do this or not?"

"More than anything, love," he replied seriously, chilling his teasing.

Emma mumbled something along the lines of losing her mind as she uncorked the stupid bottle and after a deep breath, knocked it back in one tasteless gulp.

Everything exploded in her mind, all sparks, smoke, and electricity only to immediately fall into blackness. Emma felt like she was falling off the edge of the world into nothingness, until with her next gasp of air, sucking oxygen into her lungs, light and color returned to her, the ground beneath her feet solidified, the fog in her brain subsided and just like that, she was back. Emma Swan standing in New York City with Captain Hook, Killian Jones.

"Hook?" she gasped, staring at him and feeling the tears sting her eyes. Memories flooded her and they all made sense. She knew every one of them, the stitches of her life, the things that made her _her_, and he tracked her down and brought her back. He did the impossible. "You found me?"

"Bloody hell, love," he sighed, a tired but absolutely overjoyed smile lighting up his face. "I'll always find you, Emma."

Emma couldn't stop herself for anything in the world and crashed into his arms, holding him tightly. Her brain was still a mess, Regina's fake memories were still trying to battle the truth but there in the pirate's arms she found her anchor. The salt and leather smell that clung to him, the solid muscle of his arms and chest, it felt like _home, _and it kept her grounded.

And did the bastard really try True Love's Kiss to break the curse?

_Holy shit._

"I'm sorry, Emma," he whispered gently, still holding her.

"For what?"

"Regina told us what kind of life that you'd have and that you'd be happy. I'm sorry to have to haul you out of that."

"Forgetting was never what I wanted," Emma emphasized as she pulled back to look at him. "It was wonderful, but it wasn't real. And not to remember knowing my family- Wait! You said they're in trouble! What happened?"

"Calm, love," Hook soothed her. "Storybrooke is back-"

"What?"

He chuckled darkly. "You should know the story by now. Evil, upset villain enacts a curse, everybody suffers, enter heroes."

Emma laughed despite the seriousness. God, it was good to see him, to be with him, when she could clearly remember driving away from him as the smoke took them all like it was only hours ago.

"What do you say, Swan," he said with a soft smirk. "Come with me for another adventure?"

She returned his smile, her mind tumbling with the fact that he'd found her, he'd come for her, fought to get her back. "Well, I guess we _are_ a team," she shrugged.

Hook smiled, a hint of a blush tinging his cheeks. "Love, you've been sorely missed," he breathed before taking a moment to sigh. "Let's get to it then."


	9. Santa Always Knows

_Santa Always Knows_

_A Christmas Present for Erin and Val. _

* * *

Thick, blanketing snow covered the Enchanted Forest and while the trees surrounding the little Storybrooke refugee camp were magically adorned with the white fluff and gentle pillows of it continually fell from the skies, Emma was fucking cold.

Burrowing deeper into the fur throw and trying to soak up the crackling bonfire before her, Emma bit back her complaints because all things considered, life in that moment wasn't too bad. She was with her family, her son, her pirate, and had more love than she knew what to do with. They hadn't reached her parent's castle yet, but they'd only been back for a week and the tent city of their traveling caravan was working out well enough. Also, the fire was really nice and Emma stretched her booted feet towards it and smiled at the starry sky above, a few snowflakes melting on her face.

_Not bad, Emma. We didn't do too bad._

A deep breath settled her contentment inside as she gave a half-ear to the sounds around her. Mary Margaret and David talking, Killian sharpening his sword beside her, Henry trying to start a snowball fight with Regina, Belle and Neal laughing as the queen chucked one back. Family. Home. _Finally_. Sure, currently the home came with stars shining into their living room, no hot water, a lumpy pallet for a bed in a bedroom she shared with far too many people, but it_ was_ home and Emma cherished it, latched on with both hands, and couldn't imagine letting go. Not after all she did to win it. Not after how hard and how long she fought for it.

Lost in her joy and basking in the warmth from the fire, a new sound hit her ears and she strained to listen.

_Bells?_

The rest of the group heard the noise after that. Swords and bows were drawn just as the danger came scooting in to rest just beside the royal tent and family. Emma's eyes went wide as she took in the sight while everyone else cheered with recognition and breathless joy, their laughter welcoming the sleigh and its passenger. Those bells she heard were attached to the sleigh, a sleigh of deep mahogany wood and elaborate inlay work, pulled by, yup, you guessed it, fucking reindeer, and on the lush and plush red cushions of the interior sat a bearded man. Hysterical giggling threatened to break through her lips. Santa Claus. _Actual _Santa Claus who apparently preferred brown, simple clothing to the red and white Coca-Cola getup, was nowhere near the weight class, and well, looked like Billy Gibbons with his long, reddish beard and build. He just needed some sunglasses.

_Cheap ones?_

_Yup, that just happened._

A small chuckle finally escaped her and she sheathed her rusty, salvaged sword as Sharp Dressed Man began to play in her head. Henry, losing his mind that Santa Claus was real, wasted no time in rolling out the welcome wagon, followed by David and Mary Margaret who led the tall man with bag slung over his shoulder to rest beside the fireside, the rest of the group following suit.

"Ye folk canna be so daft as to be forgettin' the time o' year now, can ye?" the man said with his heavy accent as he carefully plopped his velvet goodie bag on the ground between his feet.

"Been a little busy, Santa," David answered wryly with a chuckle of good humor as he passed Santa Claus a cup of campfire warmed wilderness tea.

Rolling the last few weeks in her mind, Emma realized they had indeed forgotten about Christmas. Not that she'd ever really paid attention to the family/togetherness/joyous holiday in the past, but she had her family all together now and would've enjoyed shopping for Henry's presents and baking cookies with Mary Margaret. Well, she had some of the fake memories from that one time earlier that year but she always rejected holding on to illusions. She wanted _real._

"Aye, that ye 'ave, but more reason for celebratin', no?" Santa chuckled with a friendly slap on the prince's back.

It was all too weird and Emma shook her head softly as she reclaimed her seat by the fire, eyeing this _Santa Claus_ person, who was apparently as real as Snow White and her Seven Dwarfs.

"So," Henry began, none to subtly. "What's in the bag?"

Hearty laughter shook the old man and he mussed her son's hair with a large hand. "What do ye think, youngun? If any 'ave earned their presents, it'd be this group of fine, heroic ladies and gents."

Henry cheered and nearly began jumping up and down as Santa wasted no more time and began pulling presents from his bag.

"For Her Royal Highness," he said, presenting Mary Margaret with a fine bow and quiver of arrows before dipping his head back into the large Mary Poppin-esque bag and producing an ornate broadsword for David. "And His Royal Highness. 'Fraid ye've both one last struggle in the restoration of yer Kingdom before ye can rest. Remember yer lineage, the strength and nobleness of yer parents, hold on to each other, and ye'll make it."

Mary Margaret nodded solemnly, accepting her gift as David did the same beside her, swallowing hard before offering his sincere thanks. A soft smile passed between them, the love almost tangible.

Santa returned to his bag of tricks and withdrew a worn, wooden staff that had both Belle and Neal gasping. "Found this at Rumplestiltskin's castle ruins. Hold on to hope and both of ye stick together. Ye'll find him but ye canna give up."

"My father's dead," Neal said stiffly as he accepted the staff. "Been dead for a while now."

Santa leaned in conspiratorially and winked as he snickered. "Did ye see a body, laddie?"

The two stood stunned for a moment until Belle's tears overwhelmed her and she crashed into the bearded man's arms for a comforting hug and even Neal had to stealthily brush away a stray tear or two.

"Regina," Santa called, getting the attention and wide-eyed surprise of the queen. "Catch."

He chucked a small vial of something her way and she caught it and examined the dust inside with a bit of recognition but also confusion. Santa cleared it up as he pointed his finger and instructed firmly.

"Tomorrow, ye get yer faerie friend and try again, lassie. And ye know exactly what I'm speakin' of. I'm proud of ye, dear one. Been much too long since ye've deserved a present and I've 'ad the pleasure of findin' ye one, so don't waste it. I've a feeling ye might just be surprised at the results in light o' recent acquaintances you've made."

Regina stiffened a bit with bewilderment and embarrassment but no one, including Emma, knew what the hell the man was talking about and could only wonder at the small, _hopeful _smirk that curved the regent's lips and softened her usual dagger eyes as she gazed at her very much earned Christmas present, cradled in her hands.

Santa then turned friendly eyes on Emma, who'd been watching all the gift giving scenes quietly and happily, but now she froze, afraid of what he'd have for her, her first Christmas present in far too many years.

Mischief sparkled in his deep blue eyes and in the twitching of his truly epic whiskers. "Emma Swan. Ye've become a right pretty lass since last I saw ye, 'ave ye no'? Strong, too."

Chuckling dismissively and shyly, Emma shook her head. "I thought the curse came as soon as I was born. How could we have met before?"

"Oh, my dear girl," Santa laughed, slapping his knee. "Last I saw ye, ye were barely eight years, all long, blonde locks and big, sea green eyes. I brought ye a dolly named Lilly and no' long after, ye stopped believin' in me."

It felt like someone punched her in the stomach. She loved that doll, it was her treasure in those dark years, those early lessons in loneliness. She'd always assumed her foster parents had sprung for the gift, the only one she got that year, but there was no doubting who it came from now. Only the giver would know about her doll, her friend.

"What say ye scrounge up a bit o' belief and I give ye another gift, Emma?" he tempted her with a smirk, still not revealing what he had in the bag for her.

The magic, the excitement, even though she was a grown woman, well past the age of Santa Claus, Emma couldn't help but smile and nod, couldn't help but to want a present!

He laughed again and tossed her a bundle of tan leather, all soft and warm, and as she sorted it out, she found herself a brand new leather jacket, well-built, modern cut, and as she slipped out of her old red one that was much too thin for Enchanted Forest Winter and had seen its fair share of battle in the past year and traded it for her gift from Santa, she found it had a warm, quilted lining and was a perfect fit.

"To new beginnings, my dear," Santa toasted her with a nod of his head and soft smile, a smile she returned a bit misty eyed but she'd blame that on the crackling fire.

Henry had been waiting with the impressive patience of a saint while the grownups all got their gifts but Santa finally had mercy on him. "Is it finally time for ye, Henry?"

An eager nod was his only response but Mr. Speechless was soon yelping with excitement and shouts of "COOL!" and "AWESOME!" as Santa produced for him a small cutlass, complete with embellished leather sheathe and ornate grip.

"Now, laddie," Santa warned playfully. "Before yer mithers 'ave me 'ead, ye must promise ye'll take proper instruction and respect yer blade for the weapon it is. This is no' a toy for a lad. This is a sword for a young prince. Aye?"

"Yes, sir," Henry agreed, knocking his enthusiasm down a notch, but he was still bubbling with happiness as he hurried to show off his gift to his father.

"Well," Santa sighed, rising from his seat and hefting his bag over his shoulder again. "I believe ye folk 'ave brought an entire town with ye. I must be off ere I put meself behind schedule."

Thanks and goodbyes were said as the man began to leave their little circle for the other tents, but before he could get too far, he stopped in his tracks quite suddenly. "Bugger me," he grumbled, searching through his pockets. "Killian Jones. Where are ye, man?"

"Here," the pirate spoke up from his seat next to Emma, looking curiously at Santa before snagging the small leather pouch sailing through the air, one-handed.

"Been a while, lad. Yer brother'd be right proud of ye. Aye, pirate, ye've earned this present," Santa said with a secretive grin. "Should do nicely, methinks."

Emma glanced with great curiosity as a very suspicious Killian, complete with cocked eyebrow, opened the pouch with his teeth and peeked inside. After a beat a beautiful, hopeful, and floored smile exploded on his face and he snapped his eyes back to Santa Claus with his mouth open in awe and surprise.

"How-"

"Saints, boy!" Santa exclaimed with a huff of feigned exasperation. "'Magic o' course! Dinna question the magic!"

Killian chuckled a bit before biting down on his lip and nodding, a sincere thank you on his lips before Santa was on his way again, whistling some Christmas tune. Emma didn't want to pry but she was painfully curious about what was so special to her pirate and even more so when he smirked at her and hid the small pouch in his jacket, lacing his hand with hers when he was done and smiling softly into the fire.

* * *

Later that night, after everyone had found their pallets, Emma was relaxing peacefully in Killian's arms. It wasn't an arrangement that David was particularly fond of but she'd made her choice. Her happiness was with a pirate named Killian Jones, the man who came back to get her when she had forgotten, the man who always fought for her, and nothing could make her love and her choice clearer than when they'd been reunited a week prior from yet another separation, upon their arrival to the Enchanted Forest, when Emma walked right up to him and kissed him soundly in front of God and everybody, frantically whispering desperate "I missed you's" and "I love you's" in each space intended for breath.

David really didn't have much to worry about with their sleeping arrangement. There was no privacy in the damn tent and neither she nor Killian were going to try anything with her parents, her son, Neal, Belle, and Regina in earshot and potential eyeshot. However, that didn't stop Killian's hand from slipping inside her shirt, into her bra, and cupping her breast as they spooned every night and after a week of sleeping soundly and warmly just like that, Emma found herself a new favorite spot.

As she lay there, happily thinking about her first Christmas with her family and how she really wouldn't have it any other way, different as it was, that hand moved away and she whimpered her complaint softly. Killian apologized by placing a kiss on her neck.

"Lass," he whispered. "We need to talk."

_Uh oh._

"What did you tell me once about conversations that start like that?" she joked nervously.

Instead of answering her, a fact that only worried her more, he took a deep breath and stayed silent for a moment. Before she could give in and question him, his arm finally came back around her, his fingers in front of her face, and in those fingers was a silver band, simple in design, with a few diamonds and sapphires studding the thing.

"Love," he said thickly. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife? I cannot do without you, Emma. Against every odd, I've found someone who heals every broken part of me, who sees all the darkness and evil and somehow even the small bits of good, and_ still_ professes to love me. So, I'm asking, Emma, if you love me enough to stay with me. Forever."

A shaky breath worked through her and she felt the cold wetness of tears on her face. This wasn't supposed to happen to her, to Emma Swan, loner, loser, unlucky, and hard heart, but somehow she'd found a part of herself in Killian Jones, stumbled across him on a journey, someone who met her and matched her on all planes, someone who fought for her, someone she'd come to love madly despite all her scars and fears, and he wanted to keep her. Forever.

"Yes," she whispered through her quiet tears and exploding smile, barely able to make a sound but wanting to shout. "I can't do without you either. Of course I'll marry you, Killian Jones. I'll stay with you."

Suddenly, she was on her back, looking up into the blues of her pirate, wide with shock as they searched hers for truth. "You're sure, Emma?"

She had to softly snort a laugh at that. "Was I not supposed to say yes? Of course I'm sure, dammit." She stroked his face and brushed a small kiss on his lips. "There's never going to be anyone else but you, Killian, my pirate, my _home_. I love you."

His lips were on hers in an instant, his tongue claiming her mouth in the pitch black tent like the true corsair he was and Emma gave back every bit she could, trying to keep the moaning and lip smacking to a minimum even though she wanted nothing more but to squeal out her happiness and have her way with that man. God help them if they ever got a private room.

They broke for air and smiled at each other as they silently gulped down breaths and rested their foreheads against each other's until Killian buried his face in her neck to muffle his boyish giggles.

"Love, you're in so much trouble when we get more privacy," he softly groaned in her ear, his hand sliding down over her breasts, her stomach, and further still.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you," she gasped as quietly as she could, rolling against his sure hand.

That comment earned her an eyebrow, a devilish smirk, and another searing, toe-curling, erotic, absolutely NC-17 rated kiss.

"Charming, the pirate is kissing your daughter. Make it stop," Regina groaned loudly into the darkness from her spot somewhere in the tent.

"You will lose that other hand, Jones," David snapped groggily as he jolted up and awake at Regina's voice.

"Just remind me to shoot him in the morning," Mary Margaret murmured.

Somewhere in the tent, Belle snorted her bubbling giggles.

"Okay," Emma said defensively with laughter in her tone. "You two have no room to talk. Every time we turn around you two are going at it."

"She has a point," Regina added.

"Tacos," Henry mumbled sleepily in the darkness.

The quiet night was destroyed after that as the entire tent of people erupted with long and loud laughter.

"And Regina's just jealous," Emma chuckled, coming down a bit from her own amusement.

"_Excuse you_?"

"Come on. Everyone in here has seen you making goo-goo eyes at Robin Hood."

"I have no-"

"Yes, you have, love," Killian said patiently, an obvious grin in his tone.

"Jesus," David groaned. "Both of them have. I can't tell if it's adorable or sickening anymore."

"Just kiss him, Regina," Mary Margaret offered, still sounding half-asleep. "Or I'll physically smash your faces together. You two are making me nuts."

More giggling rolled through but soon silence reclaimed the tent, except for the sounds of people getting comfortable again, and Emma turned around to face Killian, her future husband, adjusting the fur blankets so they could snuggle deeper beneath them. Lacing their fingers, they kissed leisurely, just savoring their nearness and the luxury of simply being able to touch each other. And after everything, it was indeed a luxury.

"You sure you want to shackle yourself to this circus?" Emma whispered.

"After marrying you and having you bear my children, love, being a part of this family is my fondest wish," he returned lovingly.

"You, me, and them, then?" she laughed softly.

His eyes crinkled with humor and he nodded. "Aye, my sweetheart. Forever."

"Forever," she agreed, sealing the deal with a kiss and a few tears before she flipped over and put his hand back where it belonged, quite deliberately.

A breathy chuckle bounced over her neck and Killian nuzzled closer and moved his hips in such a way, there was no questioning what she could do to him.

"If we're very quiet, love-"

"I am _not_ having sex with you with all these people in here," she whispered firmly before laughing under her breath. "Besides, I have no intentions of being quiet with you. Ever."

"Good girl," he chuckled low in response. "What if tomorrow we were to fall behind, lose the caravan for a spell?"

"Hmm, good idea, Captain," Emma smiled as she wiggled against him provocatively.

"It does happen," Killian laughed with a warning nip at her shoulder. "Sleep well, my love."

And despite the cold, the tent, the fears of making her new home in the Enchanted Forest, Emma knew that she'd remember this Christmas til the day she died as her first real and proper one, and her favorite.

New beginnings indeed.


	10. Teach Me Something New

_Teach me Something New_

_Rated M for Smuff_

* * *

Emma drew in a shaky breath as she struggled to calm her body that was seriously freaking the hell out. Of course, lying naked in a pirate's bed as he climbs over you, equally naked and littering your skin with kisses as he settles between your thighs, tends to give you a pretty serious case of the jitters.

Or, at least, that's what she was going to assume. It was her first time, after all.

Yes, amidst the drama and insanity that was her life, after regaining her memory, rescuing her family, and finding a plan to put the big bad down for good, Emma's heart demanded to be heard, and the things it told her, she soon had to speak out loud. Killian Jones, her friend, her partner, the man who loved her, found her, brought her back, and had her back always, did exactly what he promised her. He won her heart. All of it. And unable to keep her mouth shut any longer, she showed up at his door that afternoon, on the eve of the big battle, and confessed, finding his strong arms and perfect lips to welcome her home. After that, they simply couldn't stop touching each other, not that she was complaining one little bit.

Killian was still paying homage to her skin, taking his sweet time while she tried to hold on to her sanity. She didn't want to miss a single second, wanted to memorize it all, and she soon found the strength to follow his lead, running her hands up his well muscled back, over his furred chest, and down to his trim hips. He was perfect and her fingers laced through his soft hair as he moved his attention down her chest to her stomach where an accidental brush of his scruff over the sensitive skin of her side made her flinch and, to her everlasting shame, _giggle_.

The clear blue eyes of her pirate shot up to hers with a bit of humor mixed with the heat. "Surely, I'm not that lucky."

"What?" she asked nervously, chewing on her lip.

"Is Emma Swan, brilliant, tough, hellfire lass, _ticklish_?"

She was, but this was not the time or place for it. They were trying to do something a little more important at the moment and she wanted his lips back on her body, pronto. "I'm... It's fine. I didn't mean to laugh. Come on," she urged, trying to pull him back up to kiss him.

"No, no, no, no," he chuckled. "I have to know, now."

"Know wha-" Her exploding laughter interrupted her as he purposely drug his scruffiness over her side again and she tried to push him away.

He laughed with her, obviously extremely happy with his new knowledge. "Oh, this is bloody fantastic, Emma."

"Yeah, okay, great," she huffed, still trying, unsuccessfully, to pull him up to her face. "I thought we were going to make love. Get your ass up here, dammit."

"Now, wait," he said, successfully pulling out of her grasp. "Who says we're not making love?"

Emma rolled her eyes and scoffed a little. "Well, it's kind of hard when you're making me laugh."

Killian finally obliged her and came to look into her eyes with a curious bend in one of his brows. "And why can't you laugh? Are you not happy?"

"Yes! I'm happy!"

"Then why can't you laugh?" She didn't answer him, not quite sure of the answer besides that, in her head, sex was groans, sweat, moaning, and screams of pleasure, if you were lucky. Killian must have known because he simply chuckled and shook his head gently, pressing a small kiss to her lips before he spoke. "Love, do you know what I see when I look at you? You're so many things, Emma Swan. A savior, all fight and fire and sword. A pirate who stole my sanity when she claimed my mouth in Neverland. A loving mother, gentle and steady. A broken little lost girl who craves comfort and affection even though she'd never let you know it. A princess in the way she walks and in the curl of her golden hair. And a million other things I cannot wait to discover.

Now, I plan on loving you often, m'dear," he smirked at her before he nuzzled her blushing face softly, "And I can assure you that, knowing the two of us, there will be plenty of passion, cries of pleasure, pleading, broken furniture, those handcuffs of yours, as well as tenderness, lazy morning lovemaking, romance, and soft sighs because you are capable of all those things, because you _deserve_ all those things, just as you are capable of and deserve joy and laughter."

Emma swallowed hard, blushing fiercely and absolutely overwhelmed with happiness at the love that she would share with her pirate, but with that came a bit of nervousness too. It had been far too long since she'd loved a man, since she'd been in love, and she was a much different person now. "You may have to teach me," she admitted quietly after a moment with a small smile and shrug of her shoulders.

A brilliant smile lit up his face. "It'll be my _pleasure_, love," Killian teased with a wink before he kissed her deeply.

Emma sunk into him, swearing she'd never get enough of his taste, the leather and wood smell that filled her nose, and the velvet softness of his tongue. His kisses were heaven but she was anxious for more and began to move her hips into his, hoping he'd get the message. He adjusted and she inhaled sharply in expectation, but his fingers only gently grazed her ribs.

Shrieking into his kiss, she jerked away from his tickling as laughter tried to escape her mouth, muffled by his. Before she could stop him, Killian pinned her arms to the bed and returned his face to her stomach, dragging his short beard everywhere to find out where she was most sensitive, which unfortunately for her and fortunately for him, _was_ everywhere.

The loud sounds of her joy filled the tiny cabin as she bucked and kicked, Killian deftly avoiding all injury as he continued to torture her, giggling right along with her.

"Killian! Stop! STOP!" she cried between her peals of laughter as he found just the right pressure to make her squeal and at least consider begging for mercy. Before she could, however, he slipped lower and sunk his tongue into her warmth, just briefly, just once, and then focused his attacks on her thighs. "_Oh_!" she moaned loudly. "No! Go back! Killian-" Her laughter interrupted her again and she tried to stop her knee-jerk reaction to smash his head between her thighs. "You better hope you're not-" More shrieking. "-ticklish, pirate!"

"Oh, perhaps I am, love," he murmured, moving to caress the back of one of her thighs. "I dare you to find out where sometime."

"You got it," she bit out before giggling overtook her again.

It seemed like he tortured her forever and Emma gasped for breath as he wracked her with screaming laughter and shamefully, a snort or two, sneaking in those unexpected touches that kept her body throbbing for him and were always immediately followed by more vicious tickling. When he finally entered her, taking her by surprise, Emma's squeals of joy melted into a long moan, but the nibbling on her shoulder and the fingers teasing the back of her knee kept giggles mixing with her shouts and sighs of pleasure. Eventually, Killian began to lose a bit of his focus as they rapidly stoked the fire between them and, as the heat became increasingly urgent, their play was completely forgotten. Frantically, they pushed each other to the end, where they fell apart together with their eyes locked and cries of love on their lips.

"So, when do we get the handcuffs?" Emma asked breathlessly a little later as she stroked Killian's back, his body draped over hers.

He laughed then groaned, still trying to calm down. "Whenever you want, my love. Although, I was thinking of bending you over yonder table next time."

"Really?" She hummed happily. "Maybe we should make a list."

"All the Ways I Want Emma, Chapter One," he joked.

Emma laughed with him. "Okay, so tomorrow we put down the witch and then we'll see what we're up for. Sound good?"

"Aye, my love," Killian agreed. "I'll look for you when the smoke clears."

"Just look beside you," Emma whispered before sealing their deal with a kiss.


	11. Family Discussion

_Family Discussion_

* * *

There was no bloody time for this bickering. With a witch on the loose wreaking havoc and aiming her thorny claws in the particular direction of Snow and David, they needed safety, they needed a miracle, they needed a Savior.

It took a long while before the Prince and his Princess could be convinced that they needed Emma. It wasn't that they didn't want her, quite the damn opposite! For Killian had seen how the loss of the beloved daughter had affected her parents. A slight dulling of Charming's usual effervescence, the way Snow didn't really smile as brilliantly as she once did, they way they both seemed guilty when they announced the news of Emma's coming little brother or sister, David's developing taste for a pirate's company and even sometimes his rum, and Snow's puckered brow every time she brushed a hand over her slightly swelling belly. To lose Emma twice was slowly eating them up and the only thing that gave them joy was that somewhere, she and Henry were happy, a sentiment that Killian was more than familiar with himself.

He'd abstained from the argument for her return for that very reason but still lit up with joy when the Charmings finally agreed.

Emma! They were going to get Emma!

Well, somebody was. And _that_ was the reason for so much damned racket and blustering: The huge question of who was to use that portal buried in the forest to go and get her.

"Neal, you have to go," Snow was saying with confusion and desperation in her tone. Truly, Neal looked a little too reluctant for someone with a lost love. "You can help her remember! She only forgot Storybrooke, not you!"

"Yeah, and that's exactly why I can't go," Neal laughed with no humor. "As much as I want to, it needs to be someone else."

"Hook," David offered immediately, obviously already in his corner.

"No!" Neal growled.

"Huh?" was Snow's response, truly confused at why someone besides her daughter's True Love shouldn't go get her. "Neal, just go and say you're sorry first, the explain it all to her and get her to take the potion," she pleaded the man again, desperate to see her daughter now that the decision was made. "You're the only one she remembers!"

"Sorry ain't going to do it," Neal said cryptically. "Just trust me on this one."

"You idiots are wasting time," Regina chipped in from her seat on a nearby rock.

"Hate to say it, but Her Royal Pain in the Arse is right," drolled Robin, the newest addition to their dysfunction.

"The hell did you call me?"

"You heard me, sweetheart," Robin returned smoothly with a mocking smile on his face. "Pretty, aye, but you give me a bloody headache."

That argument quickly developed into its own minor skirmish and Killian shared a look with David, politely informing the man that he was ten seconds from snatching his horse and taking off on his own. They _were _wasting time with this nonsense and he needed to see Emma like he needed the ocean under his feet. David only smirked and moved the reins of his horse so his pirate friend would have better access while Snow continued to badger Neal.

"Are you implying something about my daughter?" Snow snapped in a dangerous tone. "Emma is good! She's a good person! Just talk to her and apologize! She'll at least let you speak!"

Neal was beginning to dance nervously on his feet and he ran a nervous hand over his face and shifty eyes. All it took was one last pleading note from Snow, and he broke.

"I let her go to prison for my crime, alright!" he yelled, stunning the lot of them and effectively silencing the separate and growing argument between the Thief and the Regent.

"You did what?" Snow gasped low.

Neal stamped his foot in frustration before hurdling through his confession. "We were thieves and I got into some trouble. Emma helped but I ran into Pinocchio before we could finish and get away. He threatened to tell my father where I was if I didn't let Emma go down for the crime! He said that she needed to fulfill her destiny and that I'd get in the way! Believe me, I cannot walk up to her door and apologize for that without her slamming the door in my face or shooting me!"

"You sent my baby girl to _prison_?" Snow hollered. "You left your son behind?"

He hung his head. "I didn't know she was pregnant," he admitted almost to softly to hear. "She had Henry in jail."

Just when Killian was about to beat the bloody hell out of the boy he no longer knew, no doubt with David's help, Snow, quick even at some months pregnant, snatched the bow from Robin's shoulder and had an arrow trained on Neal before anyone could form a thought.

Killian was a simple pirate. He didn't know much of bows but was still fairly certain that the proximity of her arrow to Neal's face and the tautness of her draw would easily send her pointed missile through cleanly. Snow was shaking in anger and those shakes grew the longer she was drawn back. David tried to calmly call her down, unfazed by the abrupt change in his wife. Obviously this was not his first time in such a situation, but the look in her eyes made Killian fear for the Princess. Anger and retribution, his best friends, and she was embracing them like they were hers too.

"Love," he said softly as he approached, treading carefully. David was doing the same, coming on the other side of her. "Don't do it, dear. You'll regret it."

"He sent her to prison," she mumbled sadly. "He left her behind! As if we didn't hurt her enough!"

"Aye, I heard him and he deserves to be flogged within an inch of his life for it," Killian agreed. "But trust me when I say you need to let go of that anger, love. You don't want to be me."

Snow finally glanced away from her target, her tear filled eyes looking at the pirate for perhaps the very first time.

"I really don't want to put up with two of him, sweetheart," David whispered at her other side.

"Sod off, Dave," Killian responded, not dropping his eyes from Snow.

Their play worked because she managed a reluctant smile and immediately dropped her bow.

"Get him out of here," David ordered, letting Robin Hood lead Neal somewhere safer while he took the bow and arrow from his wife's hands.

"I'm sorry," Snow said, snapping out of the seductive trance of her fury.

"I'm not," Regina snorted with a laugh.

Killian chuckled as well. "Can't say that I am either. Least I know now where Emma gets it."

Snow smiled a true smile, the first in many months. "She's got my fire and her daddy's looks," she said proudly.

"Aye, Charming's a pretty bastard," Killian sighed dramatically.

"Bet your ass I am," David quipped easily, leading the horse over to where Killian stood with Snow.

The princess reached into her heavy cloak and withdrew the potion Regina crafted to bring back Emma's memories, pressing it into Killian's hand. "Go get our girl, Hook."

It was said easily enough, but somehow he heard how "our" included him as well and he nodded as he found a safe place in his coat for the magic vial and moved to mount his horse.

"Oh, hey Hook," David chimed in before Killian could leave. "Snow lost her memories once, long time ago. True Love's kiss brought her back." Killian felt his eyebrows rise in shock at what the Prince was implying. "Just something to think about on your journey."

Killian smirked and nodded. "Be safe, you two," he ordered before turning his horse around and galloping off like the very devil was on his heels.

* * *

David waited for Hook to thump his horse into motion before continuing out of earshot, just like he wanted. "Oh, but wait! Come back! I forgot to tell you she kicked my ass the first time I tried it!" he hollered before his laughter overtook him.

"Oh, that was mean, Charming," Snow said laughing just as much beside him. "Do you think that they're really True Loves?" she asked soberly after a moment for their mirth.

"He loves her," David said with shrug. "I know that's true."

"But Emma?" she pressed him. "Do you think our princess will fall in love with a pirate?"

David pulled her into his arms with a solid kiss on her lips. "I don't know, but her daddy fell for a bandit," he smiled.

Snow smiled as she thought about that for a moment and it was smile he hadn't seen in too many months. She had her hope again and when she was ready, together they walked back to where everyone else was congregating, trusting in Hook to bring Emma back to them.


End file.
